


Prison of Darkness

by Blu3sc0rpion



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Bombing, Death, Dismemberment, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Topping, Fluff and Angst, Gang Rape, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Interrogation, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Regret, Sexual Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suitless Vader, Terrorism, Torture, Triggers, Violence, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-08-10 22:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16463270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blu3sc0rpion/pseuds/Blu3sc0rpion
Summary: Filled with rage at Padme's death, Vader blames Kenobi, taking him prisoner. The Empire flourishes under Sidious and his new apprentice. Though Vader, in the wake of his wife's death, is left without any successor to take on his work. Under the demands of his Master, Vader is ordered to father children. A suitable mate is selected. Though in matters of love and the living force, things rarely go as planned.





	1. Prologue

Obi-wan looked down at Anakin, his former padawan, his family, his life’s work. His heart shattered into a million pieces. Every time he looked in those tainted eyes, all he could see were the slain younglings on the council chamber floor. The anger, hatred, malice that seethed in his heart. How could the man he loved so much have turned into such a monster before his very eyes?

He had been blinded by familiarity, always trying not to hurt the younger man’s feelings. Forever dancing around delicate subjects, looking past grave misdeeds that would have told to his dwindling light, to his growing darkness, if Obi-wan had cared to look. But he had been ignorant, perhaps even willfully so. 

But now there had been too much death, too much killing. All of the order was gone, dead, slain by the man he had loved the most, and by the dark one he now called Master- _Darth Sidious_. Everyone he might have called friend or family, dead. 

Too many had been taken by the war, it was a wound on the heart of the order that inflicted its pain on all of the Jedi. But this was so much worse, a culling. And it was all his fault. Every last death fell heavily on his shoulders. Worst of all, he had failed Anakin.

And now, Anakin was dead, too. Gone, devoured by Darth Vader, the hungry rapacious demon that held no heart. So Vader looked to steal everyone else’s joy, their heart. So that he might have one, even for a moment until needed to move onto the next. With him at the helm of Palpatine’s new order, there would be massive suffering. Hope would die. It had already died. 

“Please, it’s not too late,” Obi-wan pleaded, saber angled at his closest friend. “Come back with me, forget all of this madness. Your fate is not yet decided!” He yelled over the sound of the rumbling lava flow that carved a line in the dark black rock of the cursed planet. He couldn’t decide if he really believed those words. He certainly wanted to.

“Don’t be a fool.” Vader said, looking up at him wrathfully, darkness all around him. “You know it’s too late,” another voice spoke. The dwindling life of Anakin, drowning in darkness and pain. His words painted with remorse only for a moment before Vader took control again. 

“You should take your own advice, Obi-wan,” Vader warned. “It’s not too late for you. Come back with me, serve the Emperor.” He spoke, knowing too well what was in Kenobi’s heart. He would never serve the dark side. Just as well, he would never know its power. Vader wanted him to learn, as he had. Through suffering and pain. 

“I’m sorry, but you know that’s never going to happen.” Obi-wan said, shaking his head. How could this be happening? How could it have come to this?

“Then you will die.” Vader said, condemningly as he held Anakin’s saber alight, angled at the one he once called Master. From the platform that held him afloat in the stream of magma, Vader somersaulted up into the air, landing behind Obi-wan as he simultaneously pulled the molten rock from the glowing red stream, to where Kenobi stood. 

Obi-wan was forced to choose between protecting himself, or mounting an offensive. Predictably true to his reliance of Soresu, he deflected the lava, trying to push it onto Vader who deflected it with ease. 

Vader kept up a barrage, guiding the man to stand uphill from him, pushing Obi-wan up the incline as he advanced. He could see the man holding back. His compassion was his weakness. Vader held no reservations, he would exploit the vulnerability. He was stronger, unaffected by such things. Just as the dark was stronger, more so that Kenobi would ever imagine or believe. 

“Please, Anakin,” Obi-wan implored. The Jedi inside of Vader stirred, wanting to reach out to the one he had called Master. He wanted it all to be over. Vader reminded him it would never be over, that he had gone to far. Too far to go back now, or ever. 

“Anakin is _dead._ ” Vader said, a single tear falling from his eye. Obi-wan could still feel the conflict inside of him. But could he really be saved? After everything? Truly he was just foolish to even let himself believe it. He had been blinded by his emotions this entire time. No reason to put any stock in them, now. 

“So i’ve seen,” Obi-wan answered back grimly, meeting Vader’s aggressive blows just barely, being pushed to the brink of his practice. 

Though Vader had been so entrenched in his pursuit, he didn’t sense Obi-wan’s subtle move, as he shifted the rock pile that formed the top of the hill. The ground gave way under his feet, as gravity pulled him to the edge of the lava bank. Obi-wan descended on him quickly, saber angled for a killing blow, but still hesitating. 

But only for a moment, before the Jedi stole away Anakin’s saber, crossing it with his own at Vader’s throat as he pushed him backwards with his boot, searing his back on the rocks that were hotter than coal, that even began to singe Obi-wan’s clothing. 

“Don’t make me do this,” Obi-wan begged, tears falling from his face onto Vader’s as he held him down, writhing against the pain of the near molten rock searing into his flesh. 

Vader squirmed, screaming. Then there was a snap, and Obi-wan was on the searing hot rocks beside him screaming, clutching at his thigh, where Vader had crushed the bone of the leg that had pinned him. 

The sith scrambled to his feet, calling both sabers to hand and pulling them to cross at his former Master’s neck, similarly if not identical how the Jedi had pinned him only moments ago. But to outright kill him now, it was a mercy. One he didn’t deserve. 

How could he make him understand all of the pain? The suffering? No one could ever know. But he wanted this Jedi to know, to feel it. All of it. Vader snickered darkly, bright yellow eyes tinged with blood red boring into him. “Do you know what it’s like to have one of your limbs sheared off?” Vader pressed a boot to his chest, another standing on his arm as he traced the edge of his saber in a line on Obi-wan’s arm. He grunted and hissed against it, the smell of ozone and charred flesh even noticeable amidst the lava and sulfur filled rock that made up this awful world. 

“Do you want to find out?” Vader sliced deeper, cutting through the skin, the muscle of his forearm, slowly. The man writhed and cried out. He could feel Obi-wan delving into the force, trying to escape the pain, just how Qui-gon had taught him. Vader pressed on, sinking his blade deeper until there was nothing left but a charred stump below his elbow. 

Still it wasn’t enough. How could he make him understand? “If only you had a mother, then I could take her from you, too. You still wouldn’t understand.” Vader spat scornfully, still Obi-wan squirmed, trembling from shock that began to set in. Certainly not out of fear, Vader knew the Jedi better than to expect that from him so soon. 

“Because you don’t care about anyone. Jedi like you are just as good as droids.” Vader said condemningly.

But the Sith’s mask faltered, when he felt something unexpected. His wife, the one he had strangled without thinking. She was dying, he could feel it. Promptly, Vader rose up, dashing up the crumbling hill of lava rock and out to the platform where Padme had landed. 

He knelt down to hold her, the skin of his back pulling tight, charred, sticking to his tunics that had become thin from being burned and ripped. “Padme,” Anakin said softly, not wanting to believe what he was feeling. But her life force fas fleeting fast. “Padme no!” Anakin yelled, tears blurring his vision. He pulled every ounce of strength he could, pushing life into her body. 

He could feel her retreating from him, as if all of his efforts only took her from the world of the living that much more quickly. The light in her belly, their children, dying along with her. Her amber eyes flickered open with a dull haze settling in over them. She glanced up at Anakin, no- _Vader._ The sick gold hue of his eyes confirming what she already knew. 

“Why?” She whispered breathlessly. “Why did you do this to us?” Padme asked, tears welling and falling down the corners of her eyes as Vader cradled her closely to his chest, ignoring his own pain. 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin bit out frantically. “I’ll do anything just please, don’t die,” He held padme’s head to his chest as he trembled fearfully. She couldn’t die, not now. Not after everything. But she was, and she was fading fast.

“I _love_ you,” Padme said on her last breath, both an accusation and declaration, brows furrowed in frustration as her dull gaze took on a lifeless quality. The last of her life force, the light once inside of her, gone. He had taken it. 

No, it was Obi-wan. He brought her here. He brought her here to die. Surely he must have sensed it, and he did nothing. His once beloved Master, now fated enemy. He killed her, He did this. Vader vowed to make him suffer for it. 

Just as he had finished the thought, Vader saw a shuttle land off in the distance. He could sense his Master, his true Master, on board. Instead of going to him, he stayed, cradling the body of Anakin’s dead wife in his arms. Sidious instead, approached him, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. 

“She’s dead,” Vader lamented, heart broken. “He… _he_ killed her,” he added, venom in his voice. In a moment, a spark of hope lit in his chest. “You said you have the power to bring people back, you can save her,” Anakin nearly begged, looking on his wifes face, heart dissolving into ash. 

“My dear boy, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. I’m so, so sorry,” Palpatine said mournfully. 

Suddenly Vader was filled with rage all anew, so much so that it caused him to tremble, the sheer immensity of it. He did not sense the smile that bloomed on his Master’s face. 

“Yes, I sense your anger, Lord Vader. You are right for it. It will make you stronger, stronger than you could ever imagine,” Darth Sidious cooed darkly, gravel in his voice. “You can make him pay for this. I sense he is not dead. Not yet. Not until you want him to be.”

Vader wanted to push his Master away, to scream and hurt him, too. But he knew better than to even try. Sidious was still far too powerful. He had planned on killing him, taking over the empire, _his_ empire. But now was not the time. There would come a time however. He would wait for it. He could be patient if he tried to be. 

“Now come, let us collect that filth you once called Master and depart. We have much to do.” Sidious urged him on, sorrow gone from his voice just as quickly as it had arrived. 

“No.” Vader said obstinately. 

“I beg your pardon?” Sidious said in disbelief, waiting for Vader to redeem himself before he doled out any punishment. It had been quite a day, one that called for such allowances. 

“We lay Padme to rest first. Everything else comes after.” 

Sidious chuckled, a wry smile forming on his cracked malformed lips. “Yes, my apprentice. I agree. First we bury our dead. Then we can avenge her. Bring peace to the galaxy. I am proud of you, Lord Vader,” he said, commending him. 

Vader only bowed his head again, bringing the face of Anakin’s dead wife in his hands, caressing the soft cooling flesh of her cheeks. He would avenge her. He would do more than that. He would make everyone pay, bring pain and suffering to all of those who might have never understood what it was to feel the weight of it all. 

He would use it, his anger, rage, hate, suffering. He would bring peace to the galaxy, crush his enemies. Kill, he would kill many. But not Kenobi. He would suffer, just as Vader had been made to suffer. Death would be far to swift and kind for that one. Obi-wan would be made to understand. He would wish for death, beg for it. And vader would be the one, withholding it, taunting him with it. 

Because at a time, Anakin had loved him, thought the world of him. But Kenobi had let him down, failed him in the worst ways. His mother was slain, all while Obi-wan had told him not to worry. Obi-wan led his own wife straight to her death. He had been cold and distant, and not understanding. He was a Jedi robot who couldn’t love, he didn’t know how. Anakin had loved him, only to be burned so badly in return. 

Obi-wan would pay for it, for everything. Vader vowed to make it so.


	2. Isolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I never claimed to be normal, and the stuff I write is completely messed up. Dont read if you are easily triggered by sexual violence. Please take care of yourselves!
> 
> That being said, there is a point to this madness! I promise things get better. I like to break my characters before I fix them :)

Days and nights were a thing of the past. They were something once used to measure weeks, months, years. To Obi-Wan Kenobi, they didn’t exist. Not any more. 

For the first stretch of his apparent life sentence he did try, however, to keep track of the passing of days and nights. He needed to in order to stay sane. But all of his efforts proved futile in the end. He couldn’t keep track of the rotating guard outside of his cell. He had reasoned their shifts would only be one or one half rotation, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their changing shifts at all.

The food trays he might receive were in the same manner, equally unpredictable and even more scarce. The visits from guards tasked with his torture seemed to be more frequent, though all the same, with no telling duration between visits. His slipping grasp on his sense of time was the ultimate torture, much more so than the pain they would inflict on him in their different, sickly, creative ways. 

He had assumed Vader had done this, knowing his old Master all too well. Vader would know any connection to the outside world, such as something measurable like time, would be something he would cling to. He had been right to assume it. Obi-Wan at times, thought he would do anything, perhaps even swear allegiance to the Dark, to leave these four duracrete walls he had been consigned to. But those moments of weakness although persistent, were also fleeting. 

Yes, Vader had done it. He had created this small world for him to exist within. A world without time, without beginning or end. Although the Dark Lord had not appeared even once since Obi-Wan had been cast to rot. If the Sith had loomed over him while he slept, he knew not. 

At the very least, Obi-Wan was sure Vader had access to the video feed from his cell, the one that broadcast his captivity from the far corner of the ceiling. There was a small shining black orb of a camera lodged into the duracrete there, always watching. Obi-Wan could feel his dark force presence around him when the Officers came down to pilot various devices on him, all designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain without killing. Only with him there was no objective, to extract information or earn a confession. For him the purpose was the pain, the suffering. So that Vader could see it and feel it. 

When his body screamed and writhed, trembling against the ministrations of whoever might have been tasked with his torture, he could feel him. The roving cold fingers of the Dark one’s probing, prodding at his mind. He could feel the tearing and wrenching on the lifeless cord that once connected their hearts and minds. Now, only a painful wound where it once existed. A gaping vulnerability in his defenses. 

Sometimes Obi-Wan even thought he could hear him, the Dark Lord, in whispers and suggestions, wicked accusations and stabbing lies. Through it all, Obi-Wan clung to the light, to the memory of the Jedi Order, though even that most times felt more painful than relieving. 

Because the Jedi were all gone, he and a small handful that had scattered among the stars to hide were all that remained. But was he even a Jedi? Could he be considered as such when all he had done was facilitate the very downfall of the Order himself? He had to have been just as bad as the Sith. 

Was he thinking these things? Or was it Vader whispering to him? Over time the two had become difficult to decipher. At times, Obi-Wan thought it was himself, the entire time. He thought that perhaps he was going mad. 

Whoever had been the author of those dark thoughts, Obi-Wan did everything he could to keep himself from believing them. Though as his time in the cursed cell drug out even longer, his will became thin worn from the isolation, the cold, the hunger. 

Even when he reached out for the light, it didn’t embrace him. Not like it used to. He had lived his entire life, filled with the light. It had been his everything, his happiness and home. Now it felt so distant, something far away. As if it feared to tread in this place of evil. 

Yes, it was this place. Vader’s tower on Coruscant, the one given to him by Darth Sidious for his wicked deeds as a reward. For the slaughter of all of those innocents, even the younglings. It was here, where the darkness came to roost, that the light fled away. This hive of darkness and malintent. Obi-Wan could feel it like tar on his skin, creeping over his pure heart. 

His heart. Had it ever been pure? There had been times where he had been so close to violating the code. But he hadn’t, he never did. He stayed true to the Order. All Jedi were met with temptation from time to time. He had resisted it, nothing transpired from it. 

But the parts of himself that desired such things still existed inside of him. They had been silenced, sequestered away. Now they haunted him. If only he could have been better, truly pure. Then maybe he wouldn’t have failed Anakin, and the entire Order as a result. 

If only Qui-Gon hadn’t died. Now, Obi-Wan would have gladly switched places with the man, his beloved Master. He remembered even then all of those years ago when Qui-Gon had died in his arms, how he so desperately wanted to die instead. Part of himself had died with him. Nothing had ever been the same after that day. 

Qui-Gon had been so perfect, good, gentle, wise. He hadn’t had a single selfish or malicious bone in his body. He had been wonderful, the perfect Master. One coveted amongst the other Padawans, but the one that was his. He had been patient and kind, perfect. He would have been perfect for Anakin, too. 

But instead Obi-Wan had taken Anakin as his Padawan. He had failed. If only Qui-Gon had lived, then the galaxy wouldn’t have been plunged into darkness. Yes, all of this was his doing. Every wave of death that he felt cascade across the stars, every cry for help and plea for mercy. It all weighed heavily on his shoulders, accusing him. If only he hadn’t been so blind. 

The space between his heartbeats, between breaths, was spent in a constant battle between giving in and holding fast against such thoughts. He wouldn’t, _couldn’t._ To surrender to that way of thinking would be to let the darkness take him over. That, he couldn’t allow. 

Because his Master was dead, slain long ago. His Padawan, fallen. He had done the best that he could, the best that he knew how. Clearly he could see now, none of it had been enough. Maybe nothing would ever have been enough. He would never know. All he did know, was that all of it had come to pass. Just as the rest of his days would as well. 

If only his place wasn’t here, inside these four cursed walls. But wishing didn’t change a minute of the reality of his existence. It only made it more painful. Somehow he had to accept where he was. He didn’t know how to do that while keeping hopeful, and clinging to the light. 

Maybe it would have been easier, if he still held onto his force abilities. Though even they were less than a shadow of what they once had been. He could hardly lift a single piece of food off of his last tray that lie in the corner of his cell, without feeling total force exhaustion.

The cause of his waning abilities was unknown. Was it the ever pervasive darkness? The loss of his limb? Had he been forsaken for all of his failings? He didn’t think he would ever really know. But he basked in the small beam of goodness that he was allowed all the same, not letting himself think too much of what might happen if he were shut off from it all together. Because holding onto the light felt like hanging onto the end of a fraying string, one that was about to snap and leave him stranded and alone forever. But for now, the light trickled into him slowly, giving him only enough to crave more. A need that for the foreseeable future, would go without being sated. 

What other choice did he have but to hold on? There was none. Because the darkness was pervasive, patient and waiting. He felt himself often times at its door, but as much as he thought to, he never let himself give in. 

That meant he couldn’t allow himself to hate. Not Vader, not the Emperor, not even himself. Although admittedly that last one was definitely the most difficult. Because Vader was the monster that _he_ had forged. The Emperor was the lurking darkness that _he_ had been so willfully blind to. All of their dark and evil deeds were his own fault in the end. All could have been prevented, had he only been more vigilant. 

So avoiding self hatred was indeed most difficult. Sometimes even impossible in his darker moments. But he fought against it. He tried to remember the advice his Master had given on more than one occasion. 

_You cannot allow your sense of responsibility to be clouded by speculation._

Those words saved him from himself sometimes, and made him miss his Master terribly at others. Qui-Gon would know exactly what to do in a situation like this. He wouldn’t have been reduced to warring with the conflicting voices inside of himself. His Master would have been resolute in his path. 

But Obi-Wan was weak, torn between the warring voices inside of his mind, the dark and the light. He felt like he had gone completely insane, constantly ruminating over and over until he had thought himself into exhaustion. Then he would wake up and do it all over again, until the monotony of it all was broken by a tray or a fancy new torture device to occupy his time. 

It was most certainly hell, as Obi-Wan had thought himself just about broken. But he hadn’t quite yet learned what broken was at all. 

He had been listlessly staring off at the slab duracrete wall when it gave way to the red rayshield that lie beyond. At first he thought his mind had been playing tricks on him when Vader first came into view. Though after rubbing at his eyes in disbelief and the Sith still remaining before him, he found himself temporarily lost for words. 

“You’re really here,” Obi-Wan said, almost as if he still didn’t quite believe it. His words were raspy and dry, since he hadn’t spoken in quite a long time. He had given up talking to the guards who brought his trays, as much as given up begging and pleading with those who would come to hurt him. They came and went, all in silence. Surely Vader would have them trained on pain of death, never to speak to him. So the only thing that came off of his lips for too long were the screams when the pain of torture became too much to bear. 

Vader stared down at him, amber eyes glowing darkly. A look of distress worn on his once beautiful face, now turned ugly by the man he had become. “How do you like it?” he asked in near monotone, head shroud in his dark hooded cloak. 

“What, my room?” Obi-Wan asked mockingly, throwing his arms up in gesture to the duracrete walls around him. “It leaves much to be desired,” he added dryly. 

Even now, _especially_ now, he wouldn’t give Vader the gratification of seeing him broken. Not even if he thought he was. The Jedi Master was still under the layers of tattered blood stained clothes, beneath the self hate and conflict. He would never be defeated, because the light would always exist. The Sith couldn’t extinguish it, no matter how hard they might try. Same with the last burning bit of his own resolve. He had to stay strong. He couldn’t let them win.

If anything, the act of talking to someone and having them answer in return was quite therapeutic. Even if that someone was Vader. Of course there were so many things he wanted to ask, such as how long he had been in isolation. But he didn’t need to know. It wouldn’t change anything. It would only give Vader something to hold over him. 

“No. Your new arm.” Vader stated empty, his eyes full of malicious vengeance. His dark stare watched his former Master for any trace of pain or anger, begging for a reaction.

“ _Ah,_ well, what can I say. I prefered the old one.” Obi-Wan said just as sarcastically, his gut wrenching. He hadn’t been sure as to the reason he had been fitted with any replacement at all. Maybe it was just so Vader could take it away, again and again. Though admittedly he hadn’t thought about it much any more, as he had woken up in the cell with it, and that had been so long ago. At this point, he had become used to it. 

Though the absurdity of their circumstance hit him hard, tearing at his heart for things that once were. It was not so long ago when Anakin had been dismembered by Dooku. Obi-Wan had sat by his side when his best friend drifted out of his healing coma. He was there to hold Anakin when he cried, shaking and trembling. He had cried so much. The loss of his mother, the loss of his arm, the horrendous tragedy of the first battle of Geonosis. It had all been too much. 

But here now, was Anakin- _Vader._ Standing over him, nothing but ash and bitterness in his heart. Once there had been something good there, Obi-Wan had been sure of it. But somehow it had all run dry. There was nothing left of the man he once loved. The monster, Vader stood over him now. He had killed the Jedi, ended the Order. Killed everyone Obi-Wan had ever stood beside as brother or sister. 

It was like a bad dream that would never end. But he wasn’t about to become emotional, not in front of him. It would only be used against him if he did.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?” Obi-Wan asked, trying to add a nonchalance to his voice, one that was most certainly forced and failing. A bitter heartache escaped in his words, one he instantly regretted. 

But somehow, his question unlocked a vulnerability inside of the monster, perhaps a small trace of Anakin still left behind in those wicked conflicted eyes. Obi-Wan thought he might have even seen them gloss over momentarily with unspilt tears. The illusion was feeting, as Vader quickly regained control over his rogue emotions. There was a bitter irony to it, if only he could have managed to do the same when he was Anakin Skywalker. 

“It was a year ago today,” Vader started and paused, swallowing hard. This time the tears that welled remained, glossing over his Sith tainted eyes. Though they still blazed into Obi-Wan’s unrelentingly. 

“I’ve been down here for a whole _year,_ and you’ve not even had the decency to visit me till now.” Obi-Wan said somewhat aghast, though keeping his sarcastic biting tone. “I’m insulted.”

Vader’s anger ignited instantly, set aflame at his former Master. “Why did you bring her there?” He growled, hands clenched into tight fists. 

“I didn’t bring her there. I stowed away, she brought herself.” Obi-Wan said, this time in a sincere voice, one void of any sarcasm. 

“You _knew_ what would happen! You could have stopped it,” Vader shouted accusingly, rogue tears slipping down the sides of his face. “You didn’t. You _wanted_ her to die.” He said damningly, glowering down at him. 

“I never wanted _anyone_ to die!” Obi-Wan shouted back, rising shakily to his feet. He was a slight thing these days, made weak from the trays that seemed to be more and more scarce. “I didn’t want Padme to die, _or_ the Jedi!” He felt tears welling in his own eyes. He cursed himself as his mask was slipping, the broken man beneath beginning to show. “The _younglings!_ ” Obi-Wan exclaimed, still horrified as he thought of it. 

“You did, you were _jealous,_ ” Vader spat accusingly. 

“Jealous? Is that what you’re telling yourself these days?” Obi-Wan said incredulously, shaking his head. The amount of self deception needed for Vader to function was astronomical if that’s what he truly believed. 

“ _You_ wanted me instead. You wanted what wasn’t yours to _have._ ” Vader shot back wrathful, all but disengaging the rayshield that parted them to strangle the man with his bare hands. 

“I _loved_ you.” Obi-Wan confessed, saddened by the truth of it. 

“I still remember what happened, coming back to the temple after Zygerria. Don’t act like your love for me was so _chaste._ ” Vader taunted darkly, snarling. 

Yes, he still remembered Zygerria, too. Though it seemed to have been twisted in the Dark one’s mind. Yes, Obi-Wan had loved him, wanted him at a time. He had confessed it all. 

“You said you didn’t feel the same anymore. It was over for me after that.” Obi-Wan said, though it wasn’t completely true. But in a way, it also was. He had never stopped loving him, wanting him, but he had let it go. He accepted things as they were, without expectations. But then things had changed, and Anakin became consumed by Darth Vader. After he had witnessed the man he once loved killing younglings, he knew he could never feel that way ever again. 

“Don’t you lie to me,” Vader said, looking even more furious by the second. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer but gasped instead, struggling against the invisible grip on his throat for air. “You were angry.”

Obi-Wan tried yet again and failed, to muster any words past the ever tightening grip around his throat. “You shouldn’t have rejected me when I told you how I felt before. I knew you loved me then, too. I could _feel_ it.” Vader’s dark mask was beginning to break, revealing the tortured man beneath. Obi-Wan could feel the resonance between both of their shattered hearts. Both of them were hurting terribly. The only difference was when Vader hurt, he inflicted it on others.

The grip finally loosened as Obi-Wan coughed for air, dropping to his hands and knees, lightheaded. “You were too young, hardly eighteen. I didn’t want to take advantage,” Obi-Wan lamented, head still spinning from the lack of oxygen. 

“You could have told me to wait for you. I would have waited forever if you asked me to.” Anakin said warily, down trodden. For a moment, he sounded like his old self. Though Obi-Wan didn’t dare look up to see the truth in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said honestly. Though he didn’t expect those words to defuse Vader, or even lessen his wrath. If anything it would only make the beast angrier. 

He had been right. “You brought her there to die. All because of your own regrets.” Vader said, seething. 

Obi-Wan looked up at him, his tired eyes full of sorrow and remorse, but not for what Vader accused him of. For many things, mostly for failing Anakin so horribly. He took a moment, to gaze with meaning into those wretched yellow eyes. “I never wanted Padme to die. You forget, _you’re_ the one who killed her.”

Vader sneered down at him, a curl of disgust on his lips, hateful tears brimming in his eyes. Obi-Wan had said the truth, and it seared down to the blackest center of Vader’s stone heart, clawing and tormenting him. For a moment, Obi-Wan felt satisfied that the beast who stood before him should feel so torn, as Vader stared listlessly at the wall beside him, hooded eyes blinking, fists clenched with rage. 

“Guards,” Vader said flatly, as four soldiers in white armor came into view through the transparent red veil that separated them. They stood at attention, waiting for a command. Obi-Wan looked to the troopers then back at Vader nervously. It brought a fleeting sadistic smile to the Sith Lord’s face. “Do with the prisoner as you will. He’s at your mercy.”

“My Lord?” one trooper asked, slightly confused. Vader sensed the nature of his unspoken question and answered in kind, still staring down into his former Master’s eyes.

“No killing or dismembering. Anything else you want to do to him is permitted. Don’t hold back. It’s Jedi scum like this who created your kind to serve as slaves.” Vader said, sneering down with revulsion at the man. Wicked glint of vengeance in his eyes. 

Three of the troopers muttered and snickered amongst themselves. The other looked reserved, put off by the command. “Is there a problem, Cody?” Vader asked, as the three others had already disengaged the shielding, and began to form a perimeter around the defenseless prisoner.

“No sir, I just,” the trooper began nervously, his three brothers already landing punches and blows on Obi-Wan who in spite of his best efforts, was unable to keep them at bay. “I’d rather not-”

“You’re dismissed, Cody.” Vader said with a wave of his hand, annoyed. 

“Yes, my Lord,” the trooper said with a polite bow, looking back with what could only be perceived as distress as he hurried off. 

Vader surveyed at a distance, as the three other guard had Obi-Wan pinned face down. One at his wrists and one at his ankles while the third climbed on top of him, tearing at his ragged clothes, landing punches as he continued to struggle. 

Obi-Wan’s heart, what was left of it, crumbled as too many hands wrenched him this way and that, grabbing at him. He had been tortured in many ways, even over the span of the Clone wars he had been held prisoner, but he had always had the force to help defend himself. Now the small trickling feed of light that he had been privy to seemed to dissolve even further as he reached out for it. 

“No, _please,_ ” Obi-Wan gasped out, barely audible as his chest constricted in his rising panic. Still, the assault persisted. His face was pressed hard against the dirty floor of his cell, but he could see Vader’s boots turn and begin to walk way. His heart pounded desperately in is chest as he struggled against his attackers.

“Anakin, _please!_ ” Obi-Wan begged, hands revealing his bare flesh beneath his torn clothes. 

He could see the boots turn back, walk closer. Obi-Wan craned his head to look at his face, bright yellow eyes spiked with red glaring down at him, glossed over with free flowing tears. “ I told you before, Anakin is _dead,_ ” the Dark one declared, something like pain written on his face. Vader turned away promptly, as the trooper that bared down on Obi-Wan quickly and violently plunged into him. 

And even more quickly as the assault escalated, Vader walked away hastily. It was almost as if Anakin couldn’t stand to see his former Master be hurt like this, even when Vader demanded it. Although the moral platitudes of a Sith Lord hardly mattered to Obi-Wan, as he put every ounce of effort into mentally escaping the attack, since any physical resistance proved fruitless.

He let his mind take him to better days, joyful ones even. The moment when Qui-Gon had taken him on as Padawan, how his heart sang with gladness. The wonder he felt as a youngling, when he had constructed his first lightsaber. His first trip with his class to visit the room of a thousand fountains. Satine, the pure young love they had shared for eachother. Nothing had ever been sweeter and more innocent. Even if it were never to be, it had been wonderful. 

Yes, he would stay there for a little while longer.


	3. Onderon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Four years after the rise of the Empire-

“You’re simply too good for this place my dear,” the withering woman said as she hunched over in her creaking wicker chair, shawl draped over her shoulders guarding against the bite in the morning air. “Stars bless you with all these talents only to have it be wasted on the local _wildlife,_ ” she said displeased, hand sweeping over to the tall wall that lined the great city in which they resided. 

“I like it here, grandma,” Deidra answered kindly and mostly honest as she handed the older woman a cup of freshly brewed tea. The steaming vapor of the drink filled the room pleasantly. The different notes and tones of it were familiar, ones she had come to know well. “Besides, who would take care of you?” She asked, emerald green eyes glinting in the low light of the early morning. 

“I’ve raised children, I like to think I can look after myself just as well,” the woman added defensively, edge of loss in her voice from the lives that had still been too freshly taken. Deidra was the only family she had left breathing in the galaxy, even among all of her children and grandchildren. 

“Well the entire planet knows that much grandma Thea,” Deidra chided as she began the mornings task of tending to the plants and herbs. Her collection had become massive, slowly crowding out the allotted space in the greenhouse over the years and edging into their dwelling. After the death of nearly her entire family, there had been more than enough room for them. 

Although her collection hadn’t grown out of sheer desire. They were the backbone of the small apothecary shop that kept her and her grandmother from begging in the streets. It was the only one of its kind on this side of the city, maybe even the only one on this side of Onderon.

Work meant more to Deidra than the bills that it paid. She had always loved caring for plants and had quite a knack for it. Equally she had always loved helping people. This occupation had been the magical combination of the two. It didn’t matter that it was often a thankless job. By the time her patrons had found their way to her it was often a last ditch effort to help cure whatever ailment they might have been afflicted with. People seeking such things rarely were in a good mood. And once they did feel better, they rarely visited again, until they were sick, of course. But Deidra was happy to help people, regardless. 

“Deidra,” Thea said, seriously, catching her hand in passing as she walked to the other end of the living space to care for another grouping of plants. “If you don’t get out of this place and make a life of your own, soon you’ll find yourself my age with nothing but a lifetime of regret. Don’t worry about me, i’ve lived my life. Go and live yours.” The old woman’s eyes looked gravely earnest, steeped in sorrow. 

Deidra gave Thea’s hand a polite squeeze before withdrawing and continuing her work. “Grandma, I _am_ happy here.”

There had been times when she let herself wonder what life might await her out past the stars. She had felt it’s pull at a time; the limitless possibilities of the life she might be able to craft for herself. Not to mention all the opportunities to go to school and learn, maybe even become a doctor or some other type of healer. Or perhaps be a garden keeper, the thought sounded glorious. Even better, sometimes she dared to dream of having a massive garden of her own, on some planet where the soil would be rich and fertile, and the skies warm and clear. 

It wasn’t that Onderon was so bad, and truly it wasn’t. Though nothing had ever been the same after the civil war. The people had become different, jaded. But she did her best to keep her chin up despite the circumstances.

“You forget, I’m an old woman who can’t be fooled. I know that look you get in your eyes, when you’re thinking of being somewhere else. I’ve seen it too many times.” Thea said, holding the cup of hot tea to her lips before she took a sip. 

As much as Deidra had indeed dreamt of being elsewhere, she couldn’t imagine leaving her grandmother. Not now, after they had lost everyone. She wasn’t about to leave the last of her family behind. And besides, it wasn’t as if she disliked life on Onderon. She liked it there, loved helping people. 

“I don’t know how to make you believe me, grandma,” Deidra said, turning to face the woman. “I love the apothecary, helping people, you,” her brows furrowed for a moment putting a crease in her otherwise perfect porcelain skin. “My place is here. There are worse places to be,” she added in an afterthought. It was true, she could have been born into slavery, or in the dregs of a Kessel mine as some other unlucky souls had been. 

“Sure there are worse places. But there are most certainly better ones as well.” Thea added with a hint of whimsical emphasis in her words. 

“Perhaps.” Deidra answered back, willfully uninterested. Just before her grandmother might have said something in response, the bell at the front of the shop chimed, signaling an awaiting customer. 

It was rather early for anyone to be stopping by, though it was a welcome distraction. Thea could hardly be pestering her when there were patrons to care for. 

“Good morning! What can I get for you?” Deidra rang out happily as she rounded the corner to the front of the shop, all smiles and cheer, none of it faked. 

A kind face smiled back at her. His hair was dark brown, a handful of rogue graying hairs peppered into the upper right corner of his hairline. Only the smallest traces of lines at the corner of his eyes and mouth. Smile lines, the sign of someone who had lived a happy life. 

“Yeah, I’ve been having trouble sleeping, was hoping to get my hands on your sleep blend. Everyone in my end of town rants and raves about how well it works. I figured I had to try it out myself, to see if it’s really true.” His bright blue eyes sparkled as he spoke, full of life and vigor. 

He was handsome, and looked the sort that knew it as well, though simultaneously not seeming too egotistical. “Sure, let me get right on that,” Deidra answered back as she moved to the left side of the counter, where jars with various dried herbs were stored. Quickly she began mixing the different components into a tin. At this point it was all reflex, as this tea had been her most popular among patrons. 

“You’ll want to pour boiling water over two spoonfuls and let it steep for about ten minutes before you drink it.” Deidra said as she walked back over to the register. She could see her grandmother out of the corner of her eye, wandering around the corner from the dwelling space. 

“Thank you,” the customer said, looking somewhat astonished. By what, she couldn’t quite guess. “That was rather quick, quicker than I had expected,” he added, looking a bit more nervously as he searched through his satchel for payment. “How much for the tea?”

“Five credits.” Deidra answered back simply yet kindly, as she always was friendly with her patrons. 

“Only five, are you sure?” The man asked, brows raised in surprise. “I feel like i’m practically robbing you,” he laughed, again sounding somewhat uneasy. 

“You heard right, only five.” She countered, patiently yet frank. He may have been handsome but she was not one for flattery or to be taken so easily by a pretty face. 

“As you say then,” he said, placing the called for amount on the counter, sliding them over as he picked up the tea tin. 

“Say, you’re not busy later, are you?” the man asked hesitantly. In spite of his charm, he seemed somewhat less confidant in his entreaty than she had expected, as he appeared to strain for the courage to ask her at all. He looked sweet enough, though his hopeful smile wore thin, eyes growing unsure. 

But Deidra hardly had time for friends, dates, or other happenstance excursions. She had to be here to keep up the shop and to care for her grandmother. A romantic distraction was hardly in the cards for her. Not now, maybe not ever. It wasn’t something that she had been after, not something she thought she even wanted. She had too many other things to worry about. 

“Yes, I am busy, very busy,” Deidra said cordially, though without as much as a moment’s hesitation. 

“When are you not busy?” He asked proddingly.

“I’m always busy,” Deidra said in a chuckle with an authentic smile. It wasn’t dishonest to say at all. She hardly had a moment to rest in the day. 

“I’ll just get straight to the point. I would like to take you out to dinner, if you’re interested. Tonight, if you’re available?” The man asked, putting on one last wide, hopeful smile. Deidra almost felt bad turning him down. He was indeed handsome, and seemed nice enough. 

“I’m afraid I can’t, I work late.” Deidra said in apology. “Maybe some other time.”

“Oh nonsense,” Thea chimed in, her aged voice rasping in her directness. “I can work tonight instead. Go out and take a night off, for once.”

Deidra spun on her heel to face her grandmother, who stood smug looking in the archway behind the counter. She shot Thea an aggravated look only for a moment before she turned back to her well meaning suitor. This time she wore a smile that was more faked than not.

“I suppose dinner would be just fine, then,” she said pensively, pursing her lips. 

The man’s face lit up. “Wonderful, I look forward to it. I’ll be back to get you around seven, is that alright?”

“That sounds lovely,” Deidra said, waving him off as he headed towards the door. 

Promptly he spun back around and walked towards the counter again. “I’m terribly sorry, I never told you my name.” He said, genuinely embarrassed as a flush color took over his face. 

“Oh?” Deidra said, realizing she hadn’t caught the omission, either. Mostly she hadn’t cared too much either way. 

“ _Yaron._ My name is Yaron.” He held out his hand to shake hers.

“I’m Deidra.” She said, meeting his handshake with a firm grip. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Deidra,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“See you then,” she called out after him, significantly less enthusiastic than he had been. 

Just as the door shut behind him, Deidra turned to her grandmother who still stood smugly in the corner of the archway. She shot Thea another look of aggravation, as much as she could muster. Though she didn’t think she could ever truly be mad at the woman. 

“Why did you have to go and do that?” She said, crossing her arms, slumping her back up against the counter. 

“You’ve got to go, get up and live life. He looked nice, the two of you will have fun.” Thea insisted stubbornly.

“He was a little old, don’t you think?” Deidra said gently, trying to not sound rude. “Besides, has it ever occured to you i’m not interested in being romantically involved? It all feels too forced. If something were to happen, I would want it to be a little more, let’s say, _organic._ ” 

“A young girl like you not interested in romance? Now i’ve heard it all.” Thea said, throwing up her arms. “If you don’t find someone, you’re going to end up alone.”

“I’m not alone, I have you.” Deidra answered back in earnest. 

“You know that’s not what I mean. You need someone. You’re already twenty five, not getting any younger last time I checked.” Thea said gruffly. 

“And what’s that got to do with it?” Deidra spat back, frustrated. 

“If you don’t start living, life is going to pass you by.” Thea warned. Deidra only answered with a silent frustrated look. “Well at least appease your poor old grandmother by taking the night off. If you want to make me happy, you’ll go out with that nice fellow. At the very least it’s dinner and some socialization with someone who isn’t as ancient as your grandmother.”

“I’ll go if you’ll just stop with it all, _please._ A girl can only take so much pestering.” Deidra said as she walked away, back to tending another small grouping of plants that stood to the opposite side from their dwelling quarters. 

“Alright, alright,” Thea said, giving into her request. “That’s good enough for me,” she said, voice brimming with satisfaction from getting her way. 

Deidra gave a huff and a sigh as she kept on. Until that evening, it would be business as usual. Another ring at the door, another customer. It was this, her work, helping people. It didn’t matter what her grandmother might say, or what she thought she should be doing. It was _this_ that made her happy. It was a breath of life into her weathered heart that had seen too much death and taken too many losses. 

But the day had come and gone all to quickly, as she found herself floundering in the back of her personal quarters, searching for something proper to wear. She hadn’t gone out in ages, not for a date or even a casual social engagement. She didn’t want to look too showy, but didn’t want to appear underdressed, either. It was a taxing process that she was left helpless to, not knowing which outfit to choose. 

“I can’t decide,” Deidra said, fretting. Thea walked over towards her, seeing a pile of different dresses heaped sloppily on her sleeper. 

“I think you should wear the purple one.” Thea said, pointing to the lavender and plum colored corseted dress crumpled up to the side. 

“Don’t you think that one’s a little too much?” Deidrea said skeptically. “That’s the last one on the list, if you ask me.”

“Whatever, you’re the one who's wearing it. Just hurry up, he’ll be here any minute.” Thea said, rushing off again to man the front of the shop as the door rang again. 

After too much overthinking and far too many second guesses, Deidra decided to wear a dark red dress. It was corseted with black ribbon cinching the sides. She thought it a tad bit too much as well, but planned on hiding under her cloak the entire night so she figured it didn’t matter as much as she had thought to begin with.

Just as she had finished dressing and getting ready she walked out to the shop floor to see Yaron there waiting for her in a respectable black and gray jacket with freshly pressed slacks, and a ridiculously childish grin on his well aged face that he couldn’t do much to hide. 

“Y-you look lovely,” he started, already speechless. 

Thea shot her a devilish grin that she returned with her own mild look of annoyance, one only brief and faint enough for her grandmother to catch the meaning of before she quickly switched her attention back to her company for the evening. “You look really nice, too,” she said politely, but in earnest. He had looked handsome before but now all polished and dressed up, he was quite a sight. 

“Shall we make our way, then?” Yaron gestured towards the door, wavering between offering her his arm, and opening the door for her. She nearly laughed at how skittish he appeared. 

“Yes, lets,” she agreed, stepping forward to take his arm and walk out the door beside him. 

Without much conversation, Yaron guided her over to his well kept yet modest speeder and the two of them took off deeper into the city. After a short jaunt, they parked at a restaurant that suddenly left Deidra feeling starkly underdressed. 

Just by the look of the establishment, the solid stone slabs that made up the front pillars, the well dressed guests that milled in and out of the lobby, she blanched. She would never be able to afford a place like this. More accurately, she could never justify spending so much on a meal. The price of which, she estimated might amount to well over a week’s earnings at the apothecary. Just the thought of it alone felt wrong.

Yaron climbed out of the speeder and walked round to open her door as if nothing was amiss at all, as if this were any other restaurant in town. He seemed to be rather indifferent to the fact that she was still reeling in partial shock.

“Are you ready?” He asked politely, still smiling like a fool to have her company.

“Yeah, lead the way,” she said quietly, wishing she felt more sure of herself, more confident. But here, she felt like a fish out of water.

Once they had arrived, they were immediately greeted and ushered over to their own table by wait staff that had been arguably better dressed than the both of them. The menu only consisted of three different choices, though Deidra hadn’t taken to reading what they might have been. Instead she starred in awe at the gold lettering the menus had been inscribed with, and the luxurious paper they were printed on. Thick in stock and embossed around the edges, it was just another detail that made her feel incredibly out of place. She was only a few minutes away from her meager home, but she felt like she had landed on another world. 

“What looks good to you?” Yaron asked, clearly delighted to have her company. 

Deidra seemed phased by the question, still experiencing somewhat of a culture shock. She wasn’t sure what to think or say. As to the menu, once she had gotten past the extravagance of it to actually read the print infront of her, she still was just as clueless. 

She had never considered herself inexperienced or uncultured, but this place was beginning to make her feel just that. Though Yaron didn’t seem to be affected by any of it.

“Ah, I’m not sure. I think i’ll just order what you’re having... What _are_ you having?” She asked, trying not to show just how uncomfortable she was feeling. 

“I think I’m going to get the ukian torbull tail soup, have you ever tried it before?” Yaron asked happily, setting down his menu to pierce through her with his glass blue eyes. 

“No I don’t think I have.” She said, shying away from his gaze, frustrated with herself. It wasn’t that he was making her feel bashful, it was this place. She was hardly an outspoken girl, but she wasn’t usually so timid, either. 

“You’ll love it,” he said with confidence. She looked back up to smile at him, trying to steal an ounce of that same confidence to emulate back. 

“I’m sure I will,” she said with a pause, taking a moment as to not phrase her next question rudely. 

“So, Yaron. What is it exactly that you do for a living?” Deidra asked, trying to pry her eyes away from the excessive lavishness around her as she spoke, not wanting to draw attention to the reason for her asking. Though admittedly, she was very curious. 

“I’m actually in between employment at the moment,” he said with a slight tone of unease. Clearly it wasn’t something he wanted to delve into at great length. Had he been more of an interest to her, she might have been offended. Since she hadn’t sought out his company, she could hardly be put off by it. 

“Oh,” she responded casually. Somehow his own discomfort making her feel more at ease with her own self consciousness. “So are you from around here?”

Apparently, it was another question he didn’t seem to eager to answer. “No, actually,” he said, averting his eyes for a moment.

“So where are you from, then?” Deidra asked, as the man became more and more of a mystery as the evening drug on. For someone so intent to share her company, he seemed uninterested in talking about much anything that might have mattered. 

“I’ve been all over, really. But I was born on Coruscant, in the lower levels.” He answered, like it was nothing. She had always wanted to visit the world, a planet made up of nothing but cityscape. Alleys thousands of levels deep, so much so that some beings went their entire lives without seeing the sun. Buildings so tall, you could see nearly everything in all directions, the lattices of traffic weaving in every which way. 

“Did you like it there?” She asked, suddenly interested, no longer having to act the part. 

Yaron seemed to notice the shift in her stance as she leaned forward slightly, resisting the urge to put an elbow on the table and a fist under her chin as she would have done if she were at home with her grandmother. But her eyes that had once been dull now sparked with life. 

Yaron smiled. “Yeah, from up top it’s beautiful. You would love it.”

Just before either of them could get in another word, the waiter came up to take their order. Yaron promptly ordered soup for the both of them, and a red wine in addition. Deidra hardly drank, though with the air of the establishment being rather stiff, she thought she could use the social encouragement. Her grandmother had told her to go out and have fun, after all. 

Aside from Yaron’s aversion to talking about his line of work, the evening went along rather well. Yaron seemed to never run out of tales and stories from his otherworldly excursions. From the gist of it, she gathered he had been either a bounty hunter or cargo pilot of sorts. She had chosen to believe the latter.

By the time they had finished their dinner along with the bottle of wine, he had been explaining how he escaped the clutches of a starving rancor in the depths of an uncharted Felucian rainforest. Deidra hadn’t quite decided if she believed all of his stories to be true, and suspected more than most of them to be buffed to his benefit in order to make him appear more heroic than he might have otherwise. Though she couldn’t deny the fact that she was having fun. For the first time, in a long time. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the apothecary, or helping people. She did love those things. But now, she didn’t have to think, or act, or do. She could just exist. It almost reminded her of how it had been before the war, the one that had never quite ended. 

“You know, I feel so rude. I’ve done so much talking, i’ve hardly asked you anything. Are you from around here?” Yaron said, winding down after telling his last harrowing tale. 

“Yeah, I am. Born and raised.” Deidra said, suddenly feeling rather uninteresting. 

“Tell me about it, what was it like growing up here?” Yaron asked, as he began to open a second bottle of wine. 

“It was lovely,” Deidra said wistfully, suddenly being thrown back into the past. “My father flew freight, mostly on world. After that he started flying civilian shuttles, that way he could be home every night. Mom stayed at home with us kids, always cooking, cleaning, teaching, doing something. That woman never had an idle moment, not with all six of us kids at home.”

“Where are they now? The rest of your family?” Yaron asked, innocently. 

“They’re all gone, now.” Deidra said simply, taking a large drink of wine from her glass. 

“Gone, as in off world?” Yaron added hopefully. 

“Dead,” Deidra said flatly. Even through the haze that had settled in over her senses, she began to feel self conscious about being so open with someone who was, for all intensive purposes, a stranger. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so morose,” Deidra said, looking back up at Yaron and giggling in her wine induced glee that made everything seem slightly less terrible than it did usually when she thought of such things. 

“No, please don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he added seriously. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Deidra raised her glass to the sentiment. “I appreciate that,” she said, taking another pull from her glass. 

“So who is it that helps you with the apothecary?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“My grandma, Thea,” Deidra smiled, thinking of the old woman. 

“I get the impression she’s a tough old bird,” Yaron laughed, at the bottom of his wine glass already, moving for another fill. 

“Indeed, she is.” Deidra said, in need of another fill as well. “You know, if you drink anymore i’m afraid i’ll be stuck walking home,” she said teasingly. 

“I’m a tad bit past the point of driving home already,” he said apologetically. 

“I suspected so,” Deidra said, narrowing her eyes playfully. 

Without missing a beat, Yaron immediately rushed into his next wild story, one only made more interesting by the alcohol involved. By the time he had finished, the restaurant staff had been all but ushering them out since it had been well past closing time. 

The two of them stumbled out of the establishment, both feeling much less socially inhibited than they had been upon arriving. It was a brisk evening, made warmer by the drink coursing in their veins. Deidra thought the idea of walking home sounded pleasant, even when Yaron insisted on paying for a cab. 

“Really, it’s no trouble, it’s quite nice outside, don’t you think?” Deidra insisted, twirling around to look at him as he lagged behind her. “It’s not very far from here to my house, unless you’re really that opposed to it.”

“I suppose we could walk, I’ll just call a cab to take me from yours to mine, then,” Yaron said, rushing to catch up with her, his eyes sweeping over their surroundings as they walked through the street. There weren’t too many others out at this time, only a scant few that milled around, walking to their respective destinations. The two of them kept chattering away as they neared the apothecary. 

Finally the small building on the outskirts of town came into view. They had been so rapt in conversation that neither of them had noticed the sounds of footsteps following behind them, or the shadows that followed. Not until it was far too late. 

Without the time to draw breath enough to scream or cry out for help, a hand clamped down around Deidra’s face, forcing a damp foul smelling cloth over her mouth and nose. She saw four others come from either side apprehending Yaron in the same manner. All of them were clad in dark clothes, faces indistinguishable behind their hoods and scarves. 

Deidra had never been particularly strong and even at full exertion didn’t stand a chance escaping the muscled arms that locked her in place, smothering her as her body began to feel heavy and weak. She could see Yaron’s body going limp also, drugged by the substance the cloths had been dwrenched in. 

Just as she slipped from consciousness, she felt her body being picked up and whisked away into the shadows of the pitch black night. Not a thought as to what their attackers wanted or why, not even the ability to offer up what scant valuables she might have had. The only thing she could feel was the black heavy curtain falling over her senses, forcibly ripping her from awareness.


	4. Summons

With a violent jolt of ice cold water being thrown onto her unconscious body, Deidra gasped to life. Shivering, she struggled against the steel chain binds tethering her against the sturdy wooden chair that hardly creaked as she writhed. She strained even harder to see past the too bright light that assaulted her eyes, but couldn’t see much of anything. 

Although the sound of footsteps just beyond her field of vision let her know she was not alone. As she listened harder, trying with difficulty to hear past her own labored breathing, she heard hushed whispers, words she couldn’t make out. 

Her first reaction was panic. Her body which had first trembled from the cold of the water that had dwrenched her clothes, matting her fine blonde hair to her face and neck in soping tendrils, now shook in fear. It was the terror of not knowing who these people were, or what they wanted. She hardly had the ability to inflate her lungs enough to even whisper any question or plea, with the inconvenient thrall of panic setting in. 

Past the halo of white that veiled the darkness beyond, a figure stepped closer. Deidra could only just make out the edge of a body, a bipedal figure, humanoid by the look of them. Just over six feet tall in stature, muscular, perhaps masculine. 

Then the figure spoke out, his voice deep and low. It was one that sounded kind, clashing with the dire nature of the situation that she found herself in. The words might have been aimed to calm and soothe, however they sounded threatening instead. Perhaps they had been designed to garner such a reaction, a false sense of security or hope, undermined by the ever pervasive fear and dread of uncertainty. 

“Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” 

Again Deidra squinted against the light in an attempt to make out a face, her breathing still less than steady. She found herself noticing for the first time, that her mouth hadn’t been gagged. So maybe they didn’t care if she screamed or called for help. All the same, she found herself speechless. 

“No one’s going to hurt you, as long as you’re honest with us. Do you understand?” The man said in the same gentle tone from his place in the shadows, just beyond the blinding glare. She nodded her head in acknowledgement as she tried to calm herself. 

“Good. I’m glad we have an understanding.” The man said, this time in a different voice. It sounded dark, satisfied, making a shiver run down her spine.

“How long have you been working for the Imperials?” He asked in an accusing voice, demanding an answer. All of the feigned tones of kindness had bled away. If Deidra were any less confused, his tone of voice might have made her feel even more afraid than she already was. 

But she had no clue what he was talking about. Deidra looked at the figure with a puzzled expression, as much as she could while contorting her face against the light that now seemed even more harsh and assaulting. 

“Don’t make me ask again,” he said, this time stepping closer with an object in hand. A knife, dull and ragged at the edge. He placed it under the light for her to examine, only inches away from her face. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear, I’m just a merchant. I grow herbs and sell tea.” Deidra said shakily, breathlessly, becoming increasingly bewildered and terrified. 

“You said you would be _honest,_ ” the man chided, reaching out to bring the blade to rest pensively against her cheekbone. 

Deidra closed her eyes tightly, a few tears escaping as she clenched them shut. She could feel the corrugated torn metal edge of the blade, the burrs hooking into the delicate surface of her skin. With only a flick of his wrist, he could tear her open like a piece of too-ripe fruit. She tried not to think of it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“I swear i’m telling the truth,” she croaked out, breathing hard as her throat constricted uncomfortably. 

In the midst of the perilous horror she found herself in, Deidra couldn’t stave off the overwhelming regret as she wished she had never gone out that night at all. If only her grandmother hadn’t have insisted. She might have been safe at home, instead of here, wherever _here_ happened to be. The burden of such heavy regret was nearly too much to bear. Though she had little time to dwell on it. 

Mostly, she only hoped she would live long enough to see her beloved grandmother again. 

After a pause for emphasis, making sure Deidra understood he meant business, the man pulled the knife back into the shadows, clipping it onto his belt. Deidra hadn’t thought she had been holding her breath, though as he holstered his weapon suddenly she found herself gasping for air, dizzy from an apparent lack of oxygen.

“How do you know Yaron Drabek?”

“I-I just met him. I’ve hardly known him for a day,” Deidra said, daring to open her eyes again. “I didn’t even know his last name.” 

“Let’s say I believe you. Why does a man you’ve only just met take you out to the most expensive restaurant in town? Didn’t you even think to ask what he does for a living?”

“I didn’t think much of it, to be honest,” Diedra replied, the trembling in her body slowly subsiding, but only a by a fraction. “I did ask, but he didn’t tell. I didn’t think it polite to pry,” she said, feeling rather childish in her response. Her spirit flared with anger only a moment later. She should have to explain herself to this man, whoever he was. But she would have to, if she wanted to live to see another day. 

“You claim to know nothing about Yaron’s mission here on Onderon?” The man asked, audibly skeptical. 

“I don’t know anything. I’m sorry, I wish I could help,” Deidra plead, hoping to win their favor in order to gain freedom. “I have nothing to offer, please just let me go.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” the man shot back quickly. “I don’t think I believe you. You’re not going anywhere until we can verify your claims.”

“What do you mean? _Verify?_ What does that even mean?” Deidra asked desperately, frantically searching out the hidden face of the shadow figure that paced in front of her. 

“It means the only way you get out of here alive is by impressing me. And i’m _not_ impressed.” His voice quickly turned caustic, threatening. 

“I don’t even know who you people are! Who are you? What do you want?” Deidra shouted, frustrated and scared. She felt like she had been thrown into the middle of a game she didn’t understand, on the losing team near the end of the match. She didn’t know the rules, or the players, or the objective. For her, the only goal was to survive. 

“For your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth.” The man said flatly. “It would be a shame to see that pretty face get all cut up,” he added in a low voice, hand resting over the dull holstered knife at his side. 

“What do I say to make you believe me?” Deidra shot back, feeling at the end of her rope. 

“You’re making this harder than it has to be. Just tell me everything, now. I can still make you a deal if you’re just straight with me.” The man said bluntly, nearly emploring. 

“I’ve told you already. I don’t know anything.” 

The figure stepped closer, coming into the light. Deidra could see him clothed head to toe in black, a scarf covering all of his face except the bright green eyes that shone out from the darkly pigmented skin beneath his coverings. In his eyes, there was something wild, untamed, feral even. 

“Look, all I need is com codes. Who's your imperial contact? What intel have you pushed for him? Simple things, see? Then, you keep pushing intel, only we tell you what to push instead, understand?” 

Deidra squinted her eyes again, searing her gaze into the man’s eyes. The fear she had felt at the start had all gone now. It had been replaced with frustration, anger, indignance. Within it all, came a wave of understanding. 

“You’re rebels, aren’t you?” Deidra said, accusing. “You’re to blame for the civil war, for everything that’s gone wrong on Onderon.”

“Stop playing stupid. We’ll get to the bottom of what you know sooner or later.” The man growled. 

“I never conspired with the Imperials against you, but if I had the chance, you better know I would have taken it.” Deidra barked out in an angry voice, one that didn’t even sound like her own. “You rebels are all monsters, and here you are, proving it again. As if you needed any help in that regard.”

“It’s the _Imperials_ who are the monsters. Taking away our freedoms, making us all their slaves. Under their rule, we’ll never be free!” The voice shouted out, suddenly enraged more than before. 

“They’re not the ones bombing markets, killing innocent families,” Deidra shouted back, unrestrained. Tears of anger leached out of her eyes, vocal chords straining against the untapped rush of suppressed emotion that had been sitting in wait for too long. “That’s _you._ ” 

“You were there,” the man said, narrowing his eyes. “The bombing, five years ago. The one in the bazaar.” 

“Yes. And my family. All of them. You killed them all.” Deidra said, eyes piercing into his. “And so many other innocent people.” 

“A sacrifice for the greater good,” the man insisted. “You’re not the only one who has lost loved ones in the fight for freedom,” he added with a shade of something familiar in his voice. Loss. Only Deidra didn’t have the capacity to feel sorry for the creature that loomed over her. 

“And you’re the one who gets to make that call? Who lives and who dies? How does that make you any better than the so-called evil Imperials? Is that not taking the freedom away from those people, the ones you so willingly sacrifice for your _precious_ freedom?” Deidra shouted, enraged. 

“Tell me the codes, your contact, the intel. It’s all we need. Then you work for us. Those simple things, and we let you go. Unharmed.” The man said with a shift in his tone, taking a step back into the shadows. 

“I told you already, I don’t know anything.” She said lower, averting her eyes away from the blinding light. 

Without a word, hands came up from behind, placing a breathable black hood over her head as the shackles on her wrists and ankles were unclasped one by one. “Toss her in a cell, keep a guard on her at all times.” the voice commanded, and was silently heeded. 

“We’ll find out soon enough what you’re up to, Deidra. Whether you choose to cooperate or not, we’ll find out.” The man called after her as she was led away through a series of doors into a small holding cell with a solid iron door. 

Once she was left, she tore off her hood and scanned her surroundings, not finding anything that would help her escape from the four solid walls. Though a glimmer of hope shone on the horizon. 

If they had meant what they had said about validating what she had been saying, she was sure they would find her to be honest. If they were people of their word, which was going out on a limb to believe, she might be able to get out of this alive and unscathyed. Though she wasn’t about to throw much stock in the hopes of the rebels being people of their word. She would need a backup plan.

“Hello?” Deidra called out hesitantly. Maybe Yaron was in the same holding block, or maybe someone else who might be able to help her. 

Though her words were met with silence, she thought she could hear the soft tread of someone a short distance away. “I know you’re there,” she called out, suddenly remembering the promise of a guarded cell. Her heart sank. So she was truly alone, no perspective allies in sight. 

A pair of eyes looked through the small barred window in the door of her cell. “Shut up! Don’t give me a reason to come in there and _make_ you.” The guard said in a rough voice before walking back out of sight. 

Deidra gave a sigh, settling down in the far corner. She could only hope that they would find out soon that this had all been a huge misunderstanding. Her chest burned with anger for the unforeseen consequences of her happenstance date with the supposed imperial spy. If she ever got to see him again, she would have a few choice words to share with him at the very least. 

While she sat in wait, Deidra’s mind swirled with negative thoughts about her situation, about the galaxy and the way things worked. Suddenly she didn’t feel so safe at home on Onderon, and didn’t think she could ever feel okay here ever again. Maybe there was nowhere that was truly safe. She cursed herself for her foolish ignorance. _This_ is what happened when you took time away from surviving. 

The truth was, there was no life outside of the day to day. Everything else was unpredictable, unknown. She had been happy enough to keep the shop up, keep her grandmother company. Even in the midst of her family's killers being only a stone’s throw away she had been complacent. 

_No, not all people are bad. Just because this happened… it doesn’t mean…_

Deidra fought the darker thoughts, the things that felt so wrong to think and believe. She had always thought people were mostly good, she wanted to believe they were. Was that only foolish ignorance, too? No, certainly there were places that were safe enough. She had been alright, until she trusted a stranger. 

But wasn’t that what everyone was, until they weren’t any more? Just strangers? That didn’t mean they were dangerous. But it didn’t mean they were safe, either. A stranger may have gotten her involved with this mess, but it was also a stranger who saved her life from the same blast that killed her family. 

It felt like a wound to the very core of who she was, to lose her faith in humanity, in kindness. After her family had died, it had been the only thing aside from her grandmother that had kept her afloat. The beholden ideal that where there was life, there was hope. That there was the promise of better things planted inside each and every person. That it only took the right amount of fostering and love to bring out. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Worst of all, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was the only one to blame for all of this. Now her grandmother would be at home alone, probably worried to death over where she had gone. The last thing Deidra could stand to think about was her grandmother feeling guilty over her disappearance, but she knew Thea too well to think otherwise. When she thought of the woman even now, she swore she could feel the guilt emanate off of her, even from such a distance. It felt like lead in her soul that made everything else just that much more unbearable. 

Though for the moment, there was nothing she could do. It was a helpless feeling. She was at the rebel’s mercy, and she would comply to the best of her ability; jump through their hoops. Eventually she would get to go back home. After all, she hadn’t seen any of their faces so she wouldn’t have anything to report to the authorities. 

Yes, she would escape. She had to. She would get out of this place, get back to her grandmother. Get back to the shop and continue on like she always had. It was the only option, all she knew. There were no other acceptable alternatives. 

…….

It was early in the morning when the sound of knocking echoed through the house. But Thea had been wide awake. 

It had now been two days and two sleepless nights since Deidra had gone missing. 

That first night, she had waited up for Deidra to come home. She had hoped to hear good stories of their night’s excursion. If the girl was owed anything, it was a night off at the very least. Really, she needed a month’s vacation, but that was hardly practical. Although Thea wished it had been possible. Deidra deserved so much from life, but recieved so little. Not even once had she ever complained about it.

When the night had drawn out into early morning, Thea had began to worry. Sure, she might have followed the man home, but it would have been so unlike her to do something like that. Once the afternoon sun was high in the sky, Thea rushed as fast as her aged legs could carry her over to the local police station. It was a fair distance away from their humble home, only made further by the panic that had stricken the poor old woman’s heart. 

Though the city police had hardly been concerned with her situation in the slightest. “Are you sure she hasn’t just gone off to this fellow’s house for the night? It’s too early to call this a missing person’s case,” one dismissive officer said with a wave of his hand. He was young, inexperienced, couldn’t be bothered. 

“You don’t know my Deidra, she would never go out like this and not tell me, she knows I would be worried sick! Please you have to listen to me!” Thea shouted as loudly as her throat would allow, all of her words falling on deaf ears.

“Listen, We can’t do anything until she’s been missing for 48 hours. Come back here then, and we’ll do something. Until then, you’re just wasting our time.” The man grumbled, turning his back to her to resume whatever menial task he had been working on.

“I’m not leaving until you help me! By the time 48 hours has passed, she’ll be dead!” Thea shouted, waving her fist at the officer who was nearly twice her height. 

“Listen grandma,” the man started, moving a hand to the blaster tucked away at his side. “If you don’t calm down, i’m going to have to detain you for the safety of yourself and others,” the man warned, eyes narrowed challengingly.

“Robert, take it easy, can’t you see this poor woman’s under a lot of stress?” A soft voice spoke out as a light green skinned twi’lek placed a soothing hand on the officer’s shoulder. 

The man shrugged her away. “Then you deal with grandma, I don’t have time for this,” Robert said in a huff as he walked away. 

“I’m sorry for that ma’am. I’ll put in for a pre-emptive search, so if any officer sees her they will bring her back home. But i’m afraid it’s standard procedure to wait 48 hours until a full-on search is authorized.” The kind woman spoke, her brows raised in concern. 

Thea deflated. “You’re the police, you’re supposed to _help_ people,” she said accusingly. 

“I’m truly sorry ma’am. This is all I can do. Do you need a ride back home? I can take you, if you like.” The Twi’lek said apologetically. 

Without a word, Thea turned back, huffing and grumbling back home. She had looked everywhere on the streets as she went, hoping and praying she would see her granddaughter, or the man who had taken her out that evening. Though she hadn’t been so lucky. 

The day had passed into the night. Then the night bled into the next day, and night, until it was morning once again. 48 hours had well since passed, and Thea had been ready to set back out onto the street to go back to the police when the rapping at the door had broken the silence of the early morning. The sun hadn’t even crossed the horizon quite yet when she opened the door.

“Good morning, ma’am,” an officer said in a stiff voice, glancing down to papers she held in her hand and back up to meet Thea’s eyes with her own. However this was not just any officer, certainly not a city enforcer. The woman’s dark olive fatigues were finely pressed, not a wrinkle to be seen. She wore knee high dark black boots that shone with fresh polish. A plaque on her upper right chest displayed a show of red and blue tiles that spoke to her ranking of which, Thea wasn’t sure of. Though she guessed the officer to be well ranked enough to bring with her a detail of five stormtroopers clad in their signature white armor, blasters ready in arm. 

“You’re Thea Hardell?” The officer asked, studying her face intensively. 

“Yes, I am.” Thea replied, befuddled. 

“This is the home of Deidra Hardell, as well?” The severe woman asked in a soldier's voice, eyes flitting over the front of the shop and back down to Thea.

Thea’s throat began to choke up, hoping and praying they hadn’t come with news of her granddaughter’s death. Tears began to well up in her eyes, filling the wrinkled creases at the edges. “Yes,” Thea said shakily, feeling the world spin around her as she waited for the dreaded news. 

“Ma’am you don’t look so well,” the officer said in concern, a crease between her brows. “Do you need to sit down?”

“She’s dead, isn’t she? Just tell me,” Thea cried out, reaching her breaking point.

“I’m sorry Ms. Hardell, I’m afraid i’m not sure what you’re talking about. Why don’t you sit down?” The officer said, suddenly looking more human and less hard wired than she had only a moment ago. 

So Deidra wasn’t dead, or at least hadn’t been found. Thea plopped down in the rocking chair on the front porch with an unsturdy sigh, as her tears began to slow. This entire time, she hadn’t allowed herself to cry. It would have been giving up, and she wasn’t going to do that. But now that the dam of tears had been broken, they were exceedingly difficult to stop. The exhaustion from the last two sleepless nights weren't helping her, either. 

“So what is this about then?” Thea asked shakily, trying her best to compose herself as a fresh set of worries took hold. 

“We’re looking for Deidra, she’s been summoned to Coruscant, to the Imperial palace.” The woman said matter-of-factly. 

“Deidra? What has she done? Why do you need her?”

“I’m not sure, ma’am. The nature of her summons is classified. We’ve been ordered to collect her.” The officer replied, again looking over into the dwelling. 

“I wish I knew where she was,” Thea said, dejectedly. 

“What’s your meaning?” The officer asked promptly, tilting her head to the side only slightly. 

“Deidra’s been missing for the last two days. I’ve tried to get the local police to look for her but they haven’t been of much help.” 

“We’re going to have to search your residence for her, i’m going to ask you nicely to not interfere.” The officer said politely yet short, not waiting for Thea to reply before she waved the company of troops over to the entry. 

“Don’t turn the place upside down, just give a good look,” the woman called after them as they filed in through the door. 

“Yes, sir,” the commanding trooper shouted back from within the shop. 

“You have no idea how I wish they would find her in there,” Thea said, still teary eyed. “I keep on thinking she’s going to walk round the corner, or that i’ll find her watering her the plants in the greenhouse,” she paused, fighting the swell of tears that grew as she spoke. “But she’s not, no matter how wish it were so.”

The officer knelt down, taking her hat in her hands respectfully. The woman’s hair was fair, like Deidra’s. It made Thea choke up more. “I’m sorry, truly I am.”

“It’s my fault, you know, I told her to go out to dinner with that man, Yaron, I think his name was.” Thea said, as the officer promptly pulled out her data pad and began entering in notes. 

“You said his name was Yaron. Do you know the last name by any chance? Any details of what he might have looked like?” The officer asked, attentive. 

“I don’t know his last name, but he had dark hair. Brown, maybe black? A little gray up in one corner. Blue eyes, tall but not too tall. I’m sorry, I know that probably doesn’t help much.” Thea said, feeling silly for how few details she knew about the man she suggested her granddaughter go out on a date with. 

“It’s good, it helps.” The officer said, stowing away her data pad into the recesses of her jacket. “I’m going to see what I can do.” 

“I just want her to be okay,” Thea said quietly. “If she’s hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.” 

Just then the troopers filed back out of the shop, onto the front porch beside the officer who promptly stood back up, putting her cap back on. “Nothing to report, sir. The girl’s not in there.” 

“Alright men, back to the shuttle.” The officer commanded. Seamlessly, the troopers marched back down the path to the triangular shaped craft that sat off in the distance. 

“Keep your chin up, Mrs. Hardell. We’ll be in contact.” The officer said in earnest. 

Thea nodded, afraid to become too hopeful, though appreciative. Still, there was the matter of Deidra being summoned to Coruscant for unknown reasons, to the Imperial palace, no less. That, she still wasn’t comfortable with. But being taken to Coruscant was a far cry better than whisked away by strangers, taken to who knows where. 

…….

“My Lord, I’m afraid the girl you summoned is missing. We have a few details about her disappearance, but she was nowhere to be found.” The Lieutenant said, his voice unsteady as he stood at the foot of the emporer’s throne. He had heard tales of what happened to people who displeased the man. Even standing in his presence was known to strike terror into the hearts of his subjects. 

The six red robed guard that stood beside the Emperor were at attention, staff in hand, ready to strike. Everything about the sight was made to instill unavoidable, desperate fear. It was quite effective, and true to expectations.

Even worse, the Emperor looked unimpressed. Although, not thoroughly enraged, either. Surely he would have never survived had he been so disposed. “I see,” Palpatine said simply, features darkened by the black hood that covered his face. Only the yellow glow of his eyes were visible beneath.

“Do you require anything, my Lord? Shall I send out a squad to search for her?” He asked nervously, fidgeting his hands subconsciously as he clasped together. 

“No, that will be all, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.” The Emperor said with a wave of his hand. 

With tangible relief the man gave a polite bow and promptly spun on his heel, heading back down the too-long hall to the doors that led out of the throne room. As soon as the Lieutenant had fled, the Emperor keyed on his com. 

The face of his apprentice appeared in the blue holo before him. “Master,” Vader answered, bowing his head in reverence.

“Apprentice,” Sidious smiled, revealing his marred yellow teeth. “Come to me, I have a task for you.” 

“Yes, Master. I’ll be right there.”


	5. Conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case there was any confusion as to the timeline in this fic, the chapters are timed as follows:
> 
> Prologue: End of the Clone Wars 19 BBY
> 
> Isolation: 1 year Post-Clone Wars 18 BBY
> 
> Onderon: 4 years Post-Clone Wars 15 BBY
> 
> Summons: Immediately following the previous chapter
> 
> Conflict: Immediately following the previous chapter
> 
> From here on out the story will be MOSTLY linear with not many significant time gaps. Any further time gaps or any other difference that doesn't follow the immediate progression will be clearly labeled at the top of the chapter.

“Apprentice, not a moment too late. I appreciate your punctuality.” Sidious said, stretching his hand out towards Vader who knelt at the foot of his throne. 

“What is it you require, my Master?” Vader asked in placid monotone, eyes flitting to the floor before he gazed up to the Dark One who reclined before him. Even in his lazed repose the man held an air of authority and commanded respect. 

“Rise, Darth Vader. There is something we must discuss,” the Dark Lord said as he seamlessly rose up from his place, languid in his movements though not at all decrepit in spite of his weathered appearance. “It is something that has gone long enough without being addressed.” 

“What is it, Master?” Vader asked, his pensive manner shaded by currents of worry and frustration, most of all his ever lacking patience getting the best of him. Though he wouldn’t let such things take to the surface of his words and actions. Not towards his master, of all people. No, he would take out his aggression and pent up rage, every slight and irritation, on those subservients of his own. 

If simply striking terror in a passing subordinate was not enough, he might casually murder a maid or butler, trooper or guard. Of course there was the matter of his house pet, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Though Vader very rarely took the time to visit him in person, he did task others with the man’s torture. The feed from his cell in the dungeon of Vader’s tower was linked directly to his communicator. Sometimes a brief glance at that was enough to soothe his need to hurt others. Sometimes it only made the need grow more.

“Walk with me.” Sidious commanded as he took lead, crossing the short distance between the throne and the door that gave way to the Emperor’s personal garden. Vader followed obediently only a step behind. 

Once they had passed through, the door shut behind them leaving Master and apprentice alone away from prying eyes. For a little while Sidious meandered through the decadently arranged flora and greenery. Vader tolerated it as he was meant to please his Master. Though his near non-existent patience had begun to wear thin. 

Sidious stopped before a glass encasement. Inside were beautiful white flowers, exotic and rare. “Do you know what these are?” He asked, turning to study Vader’s face with interest and curiosity.   
“No, Master,” Vader answered curtly, stifling the urge to cross his arms in annoyance. Were he still a Jedi he would have absolutely expressed his displeasure. Obi-Wan had been no stranger to the fact that patience had been no virtue of his, it never had been. Though his newly taken Master would not have such things. He had made it known early in their relationship that he was to be obeyed and respected at all times, especially at times where he felt tested in such a way. It wasn’t that the relationship between the two of them had been strained. It was only that in their new arrangement there was no room for the notes of kindness and friendship that he had once been privy to in his former life. 

Sometimes in his weaker moments he missed it, the life he once lived as Anakin Skywalker. There were many things that the Jedi had, that the Sith Lord did not. But he had become so much more powerful now with the Dark Side as his ally. So much more than he could ever have dreamed of as a Jedi. It was a sacrifice, one among many he had been willing to take. After he had made the ultimate sacrifice already, such things were scant in comparison. 

“Ilum Zinnia. They haven’t been able to grow on the surface of Ilum for several thousand years. They date back to when the planet had been lush and green, before the death of its primary sun. The only place these can exist is in carefully crafted environments, such as this one. They require a specific mixture of nitrogen and helium to survive.” Sidious explained, placing one gnarled hand to the glass of the terrarium.

“If it can’t survive on its own it shouldn’t be allowed to live,” Vader declared, subconsciously balling his hands up into fists at his sides. Had his Master taken him here simply to teach such an elementary lesson in the ways of the Sith? If so, Vader’s tolerance for being treated in such a way dissolved even more. His master turned to him, a look of amusement on his face.

“Ah, yes. That has been a long held view of the Sith for many hundreds of years. And perhaps, from a certain point of view it could be correct. Though sometimes, even weak things serve a purpose. They can serve us better while kept alive, rather than dead. And Sith serve themselves above all else, do they not?” Sidious chuckled before continuing.

“The Ilum Zinnia for example, produces a rare antitoxin that cures the C5H4 virus. The only known cure in the entire galaxy.” He said in a semblance of awe as he studied the ornate structure of the delicate white flowers that hung in tufts of lattice woven petals from their spiraling vine like stems. 

“What is this about, Master? Surely you didn’t bring me here to lecture me on ancient exotic flora.” Vader said as calmly as possible, though with tangible undertones of frustration.

Sidious chuckled again, turning to face Vader. “Indeed I did not, my young apprentice. I have a task for you.” He said, turning more serious. 

“Say it and it will be done, my Master,” Vader said, feeling what might have been a wave of relief over his senses at the thought of being sent out to do something. 

He hated being idle, he needed to be in action. Even at home in his tower on Coruscant there was no peace. Not because of the countless souls on the city-sprawl planet, not because of the senate or the endless politics. It was because within the silence of inaction, all he could hear was his own self hatred, his own damning thoughts. The voice of Anakin Skywalker crying and screaming, the man he once was horrified by who he had become. Anything was better than being idle, left alone with himself. 

“You will go to Mustafar alone, meditate at the temple there. In the meantime you will send your first legion to me, I have a special task for them. I will call for you once their mission is complete. Then, I have someone for you to meet.” Sidious explained rather methodically. It was clear he understood what vexation this caused his apprentice, as his words were careful and measured. Though being told to meditate was the least of what irked him. 

“What’s with all the secrecy? Just cut to it, Master. Tell me what this is all about.” Vader nearly growled. “You test my patience too much, Master.” 

Sidious chucked again, darkly this time. “You test the bounds of my lenience too much, _apprentice._ ”

Vader sighed under his breath casting his eyes low in routine apology. “Forgive me, Master. It wasn’t my place.” 

“Of course, of course,” Sidious chided. “Perhaps now would be the best time to speak of this, anyhow.” 

Vader answered with measured silence as his vacant expression looked on at his Master, waiting. Sidious smiled, entertained by such thin restraint. 

“At the start of our great Empire, we began a DNA archive of all humans from core to outer rim worlds. You remember?”

“Yes, I remember. It was one of the first edicts you enacted into law as Emperor.” Vader answered back, confused by the direction of conversation. 

“The purpose of the project had many, many applications. We are still processing data as we speak. It has been a very illuminating project. Very profitable by means of biological weaponry and medical advancements already.”

“I would expect nothing less, Master.” 

“There has been one hidden purpose. Something I have kept from you, until now.” 

“Well, what is it then?” Vader spoke, no longer veiling his frustration.

Sidious paused, looking straight on into Vader’s tainted yellow eyes with purpose before continuing. “Before every great ruler stands before them, their legacy. What they leave behind. As Sith, we strive to live as long as we can. Forever, if possible. Some have achieved such immortality through means other than flesh. But still, power from beyond this form… has its limits.” 

“I don’t think I understand your meaning, Master,” Vader said low, inclining his head. 

“Oh, but you do. I know you do, apprentice. You must create your own legacy. The power of your bloodline is too valuable to go to waste. Just think of the power we will have, an immortal Empire kept alive by our _own_ blood even as we pass on into our immortal forms.” Sidious spoke, eyes looking far past Vader into his visions of greatness, things that awaited them beyond the physical realm. 

“What do you mean _our_ blood?” Vader asked incredulously. 

“The DNA archives have selected two prime genetically compatible mates. I must carry on my line as well. It’s our duty, to the Empire. We must protect everything we have worked so hard to build from the corruption that threatens to decay it from within.” Sidious said emphatically, his gaze searing into Vader’s with meaning. 

“So let’s get it over with, then. Surely there’s a doctor you’ve selected to handle the harvesting process. With all the technology available-”

“There will be no harvesting. The technology exists, yes. However it has proven unreliable. Besides, we wish to foster the midi-chlorian counts as best we can. Numbers seem to plummet in humans grown in _test tubes,_ ” Sidious said with distaste, clearly disliking of the notion on more than just a practical level. 

“Then we have the subjects artificially inseminated, put them on a quiet planet some place where they can be left in peace during their pregnancy. I don’t see why this has to be such an ordeal.” Vader insisted.

“Perhaps. Though, artificial insemination can also weaken the product, which is hardly acceptable when we are talking about the future of our Empire. Our own _children,_ ” Sidious countered, eyeing Vader skeptically. “I knew you would be resistant to this, which is why i’ve waited so long to tell you of it. But surely you must see the necessity of it.” 

“The subject deemed a suitable genetic match to you is in need of retrieval at the moment, missing as it would seem. This is the task to be assigned to your first legion.” Sidious added in Vader’s silence.

“...No. I won’t do it. You can’t be serious. How, how can you even ask me to do such a thing?” Vader said, regarding his master with disgust as his palms began to sweat. Just the thought of it made his stomach churn, touching too closely to traumas that had still yet to heal. Things that had always been complicated, things he didn’t like to think about.

“Padme’s been dead for four years now, Vader,” Sidious ground out in a harsh voice. “It’s time to put this aside. Just because Sith don’t share the same Jedi mandate on attachments, doesn’t mean they can’t still be dangerous. Don’t be foolish. You must remember our primary objective. The Empire always comes first. Especially when at our own detriment.” Sidious said seriously, displeased by Vader’s unchanging expression.

Vader snarled, reflexively resting his hand on his saber. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

“What do you think you’re going to do, kill me?” Sidious laughed heartily for a moment before sending a lethal jolt of lightning crashing through Vader’s body, sending the Dark Lord to his knees as he cried out in pain. “You will do as I command unless you wish to die a slow and painful death. There are still so many ways I could make you suffer, things that not even you could imagine.” 

Sidious ceased his assault on his apprentice who had now fallen to his hands and knees before his Master. Sidious spoke with what sounded like genuine concern laced with friendly encouragement. Although the meaning of his words were laden with menace and warning.

“I want nothing more than for the two of us to succeed, Darth Vader. You and I, as Master and apprentice. But you must set this foolishness aside. It would not please me to have to train up another in your place.”

“Yes, Master,” Vader gasped out, still on his hands and knees as his lungs only just began to work properly again. The echo of terrible pain still thrumming through his body.

“Good, good.” Sidious said, seeming to be satisfied with Vader’s change of heart. “I recognize this is difficult for you, so I appreciate your compliance. Now go, make your preparations. You will leave for Mustafar in the morning. Send Commander Appo to me so I may brief him on the mission at hand.” 

Vader craned his neck up against the muscles that still complained, not wanting to function properly, until he made eye contact with the Sith Lord who stood over him. “It will be done, Master.” 

…….

The hour was late when Obi-Wan was awoken by the familiar sound of the stone wall of his cell sliding away to reveal the rayshield beyond it. Then the anticipated electric static crash sounded out as the shield was deactivated, the soft padding of footsteps moving closer against the duracrete floor.

He tried to act like he was still asleep but his body betrayed him, tensing every muscle in wait of something terrible. It had become commonplace anymore, being used by the soldiers that would stand guard. Though this night, it was not one of the same-faced clones that came to him. It was however, a familiar face. 

Vader had tripped over his feet as he tiptoed into the cell, landing haphazardly on his knees and elbows before he tumbled. Obi-Wan could smell the pungent odor of liquor and spice on him from several feet away. Clearly, the Dark Lord had partaken more than his share for the evening. 

Obi-Wan’s heart sank as he thought of the reason his captor might have come down to visit him at this hour, in such a state no less. He tried to keep it out of mind, willed himself to act as if he were still sleeping. He had learned long ago that it was fruitless to try and defend himself. It only made everything so much worse. Without the force to defend himself, he was just a sad, sorry weakling. It was better just not to try.

“Obi-Wan,” Vader groaned in his intoxicated state, fumbling his way back to his feet before crashing back down again only inches away from him. 

Vader’s voice sounded desperate, imploring. Obi-Wan’s heart broke, thinking of the man who used to live inside the shell that was now Darth Vader. So he did the only think he knew how to do anymore, and ignored it, pushed everything away. 

He was asleep. Yes, that’s right. Asleep, where nothing bad had to exist, only the pure bliss of nothing. Unconsciousness. Very much what he had yearned for during the last few years. Especially now. 

Only he wasn’t asleep, and he could feel Vader’s hand on his shoulder. His touch was gentle, somehow even worse than the clones that would handle him so roughly. Obi-Wan’s body tensed even more, jerking away from the contact. 

“Obi-Wan, wake up, please,” Vader begged, pulling himself to sit up against the wall beside his former Master. 

Part of Kenobi began to feel intrigued, but inside himself there were too many emotions to think clearly. Vader was down here, sitting beside him in the filth of his cell. It was cruel. Obi-Wan didn’t trust it, didn’t trust _him._ Surely there would be some ulterior motive, some kind of punishment lurking on the horizon. 

Obi-Wan slowly pulled himself up as well, moving to rest against the wall a few feet away from Vader. He swallowed, composing himself. No matter what state he was really in, he never liked giving Vader the satisfaction of seeing him at his lowest point. He would be his usual quippish self. It was all he knew how to do.

But now it was all just emulation of the Jedi master he had once been, none of it real anymore. He was just an outcast of a dead order, a lone apostle with nothing to preach, no brothers or sisters of faith to share with. He tried not to dwell on it too much as he studied Vader’s silhouette against the dim light of the hall behind him. 

“Darth Vader,” Obi-Wan announced. “What brings you to my humble abode this time?”

Over the last several years, Vader had only ever visited on the anniversary of Padme’s death. Though he felt it too soon for that to be passing already. No, this felt different. Besides, it was unusual for the Dark Lord to be given to use substances. Even in his past life he detested the thought of using such things. 

“No… Don’t, don’t call me that,” Vader insisted groggily, slurring his words slightly.

“What might you prefer? Lord Vader, instead?” Obi-Wan shot back, holding every bit of raw and terrible emotion behind his breaking dam of self restraint and composure. 

“No,” the Dark One whined, “My name, say my name,” Vader begged, completely devoid of any poise or self respect he might have carried while sober. The Sith crawled closer, leaning forward to lay his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I haven’t heard my own name… in years…” he mumbled sadly as Obi-wan took to quickly retreating back again, repulsed by any physical contact. 

Obi-Wan felt a knife twist in his heart at the Dark One’s entreaty as his soul ripped in half. That cursed name falling off of his tortured lips. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, aghast, nearly unable to hear his own voice over the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears. 

“ _Master,_ ” Anakin started, voice cracking and breaking as he wiped the tears that began to fall from his eyes. 

His _eyes._

They no longer held the molten glow of the Dark Side. Only the jewel blue eyes of Anakin Skywalker stared back at him. “I’m so lost, I don’t know what to do. I’m _scared,_ ” Anakin cried freely, completely breaking free of all social restraints that might have held him back. 

“Don’t call me _Master,_ ” Obi-Wan said under his breath though loud enough for the Dark Lord to hear. Obi-Wan cursed the sob that clenched around his throat, tainting his words as he fought in futility against it. 

Hearing such an accusation, Vader calling him his Master, made Obi-Wan’s skin crawl. He knew the truth, and this was the most dangerous thing of all. Anakin didn’t exist any more. Only Vader remained. No matter what tricks Obi-Wan’s heart might try to play on him, it didn’t change the facts. Anakin was long gone.

“Obi-Wan, I need your help, _please,_ ” Vader cried out, reaching another hand out to touch his shoulder. Obi-Wan retreated yet again.

“Don’t _touch_ me,” Kenobi said, cursing himself for how weak and pathetic the words sounded. How easily scared he was. And it was true, he was absolutely terrified. Not only for what Vader might do to him now, but for the consequences of witnessing Vader’s drunken state. Surely for every bit of Anakin he let out, Vader would make him suffer ten times over when he sobered up. 

“Come away with me, Obi-Wan. Let’s leave now, tonight,” Vader begged on his hands and knees. 

Obi-Wan’s stomach wrenched and heaved. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. I can’t take this any more. Being someone i’m not. I can’t do it. I can’t be Darth Vader any more. I hate myself. It’s the only way I survive, the only thing that keeps me going. But I can’t live like this, all the hate, the suffering. Please Obi-Wan,” Vader gasped out between sobbs, head buried between his shoulders, forehead pressed to the dirty floor of the cell. 

“I am. I can’t take this any more, being someone i’m not. I can’t do it. I can’t be Darth Vader any more. I _hate_ myself. It’s the only way I survive, the only thing that’s kept me going. I can’t live like this any more, please Obi-Wan,” Vader said between sobbs, head buried between his shoulders, pressed against the dirty floor of the cell. 

“You’re just drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Obi-Wan said, trying as best he could to rationalize the situation, to tell himself that it was all pointless. There was no hope for either of them. Their fates had been sealed long ago. Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to live believing Anakin was still there, waiting to be rescued from the clutches of Darth Vader. 

“No, please Obi-Wan, listen to me. I’m begging you. I _love_ you,” Vader confessed open endedly as Obi-Wan’s heart filled with acid, eating his chest from the inside out. 

“No, don’t you dare say that,” Obi-Wan growled, feeling breathless. “You don’t get to say that! Not after everything you’ve put me through!” He yelled down at Vader who still knelt before him oddly submissive. 

Vader tilted his head up at him, eyes full of pain from his wounded soul that had become trodden by Darkness. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Please forgive me…” Vader plead. Obi-Wan had no words to answer with. He couldn’t even acknowledge what he had just said, it was outrageous. Forgiveness? For a so-called Jedi it shouldn’t have been such a difficult thing, but he found it next to impossible. 

Obi-Wan began to tremble as his gut wrenched, mouth hanging agape in his conflict. Vader retracted his gaze back down to the soiled floor on which he bowed. “No, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I’m a monster. I’ve done terrible things, unforgivable things,” Vader said, turning sheet white. 

In a slow shaky motion, Vader pulled his saber from his belt and presented it to his former Master. “Take it.” Vader said in a plea. “Use it, kill me. You should be the one to do it.”

Obi-Wan looked down in disbelief at the saber, the one that was being offered to him by the hands of a Sith Lord. For a moment, he thought of it. He should do it, kill the one who had killed so many, who would only kill countless others if allowed to live. 

“No… I-I can’t,” Obi-wan said to his own surprise. Even after all the pain, everything that had been done to him, the murder of the entire Jedi order, so many other innocents, he might not be able to forgive him, but he couldn’t raise a hand to hurt him, either. He might have justified the reaction as part of the Jedi code that had been hardwired into him, but he knew better. This was the residue of attachment, the love he had once had for his former Padawan. Even after all this time, after all the atrocities and horrors. The seed of his love remained, a curse on his tortured heart.

“Please,” Vader begged again, this time handing the saber over to him. 

“No, stop asking, I won’t do it.” Obi-Wan said firmly with finality as his mind and heart began to feel numb from the overload of emotional stress that was flooding his senses.

Besides, killing Vader wouldn’t end the hell that he had been cast into. It wouldn’t bring the light back to the galaxy. It wouldn’t bring the dead back to life. All in all, it would be a fruitless action. 

Vader clumsily holstered his saber and lurched forwards towards Obi-Wan who retreated only as far as he could before he was cornered. His skin crawled with disgust, hating the feeling of hands on him as Vader pressed on, leaning in close yet again. It made his stomach churn with nausea. 

“I told you not to touch me,” Obi-Wan said again, this time trying to bolster his voice with more firmness and aggression for all the good it did him. 

“I love you, Master,” Vader said warmly, slurring his words still as he rested his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, brushing his lips against his neck. 

Obi-Wan shuddered, trying to quell the desperate panic that tried to take him over. “Stop it,” Obi-Wan shouted, pushing up against Vader as hard as he could to no avail. He had grown weak in captivity, especially since his force powers had so diminished. 

“I”m sorry, please just hold me, _please,_ ” Vader whined, throwing his hands around Obi-Wan’s torso. 

“No, get off me,” Obi-Wan said, trying to wriggle his way out from under Vader’s bodyweight. 

“Please,” Vader said again, trapping him in even more, his still-blue eyes gazing down into Obi-wan’s terrified stare. 

Freeing his hand from the unwanted embrace, Obi-Wan pulled his hand back and slapped Vader across the face as hard as he could. It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough to sting. In an instant, Vader’s hand was coiled around his throat as he pinned his once called Master up against the wall. 

Obi-Wan smiled grimly against the sobb that tried to break out, tears blurring his vision. “See? There it is. I knew Vader was in there, just waiting to come out.” 

Vader stared him down threateningly, eyes dimly lit with gold tones at the inner edge. “Now you can take what you came here for,” Obi-wan said, his voice breaking by a sob that tore from his throat. “Just take what you want like everyone else does.” 

Vader’s face turned a few shades remorseful, though the yellow in his eyes didn’t fade even as they glossed over. “Do you think there was ever a time where we might have been happy together?” He asked, loosening the grip he had on Obi-Wan’s throat, now simply resting his hand above his collar bone. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t answer with anything other than a string of tears that fell down the sides of his face.

“If you would have accepted me when I told you how I felt, we could have been happy. We would have been, right?” Vader asked again, in desperate want of an answer. 

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Obi-Wan replied, heart heavy with regret. 

“I loved you. I loved you so much, when you rejected me you broke my heart,” Anakin said, blinking away the tears that welled in his eyes. “I was so lonely, so was Padme, so we fell in love. But I never stopped loving you, even when she was pregnant…” he said, face contorting with self disgust as tears continued to fall in steady streams. 

“When you confessed to me on the way back form Zygerria, that was the only time I was ever unfaithful to her,” Anakin said, brows furrowed with regret. “She deserved more than that, someone who wasn’t torn in half over someone else.” 

Anakin took a pause, visibly pained as he forced himself to continue. “After that, I couldn’t live with myself. With what we did… It wasn’t the same… Even when I was with her, when I closed my eyes… I thought of _you,_ ” he cried out, his blackened heart tearing in half over old regrets. 

Obi-Wan’s mind was reeling, his body trembling. “Why are you telling me this?” Obi-Wan asked in a terrified whisper. He couldn’t trust him. Everything he was hearing, he would pay for it all in one way or another. Vader would demand it. 

“I-I don’t know,” Vader answered, still visibly inebriated. “I miss you,” he said, leaning in close again, his tainted breath still wreaking of the too many drinks he had ingested. 

Obi-Wan stared him down as best he could in his fear. “You’ve locked me in a cell for the past, who knows how many years to be tortured, and _raped,_ ” he said, struggling to find each word as it all seemed to make his personal hell that much more horrible. 

“I beg for death every day, because it’s the only place where there won’t be any more pain,” Obi-Wan said as his voice broke, failing him as rogue tears escaped his eyes. He was exposing a sliver of his soul to the Dark Lord, already more than he was comfortable with. “But you tell me that you _love me?_ That you _miss me?_ ”

Obi-Wan took a breath, steadying himself and calling on every last bit of resolve as he pooled up enough courage within himself to say what had gone too long unsaid.

“You say I was the one who killed Padme, but we both know the truth. You killed her and you blame me, but deep down you blame _yourself._ You take it out on me so that someone else will feel your pain. Because I see you for what you really are. That’s why you keep me locked away down here, a toy for your guards, a test subject for all your new torture devices. All because I know who you are.” 

_Worst of all, the only one to blame for your darkness is myself._

“Maybe it’s true,” Vader said emptily, raw pain filling his now fully yellow eyes. Any trace of Anakin that had lingered was all gone now, just as Obi-Wan had expected. He had never really been there at all. Vader had consumed all of him, a long time ago. A bit of drink and spice wasn’t going to change that. “You _do_ know who I am,” Vader spoke a shade darker, pushing a sense of terror and fear onto Obi-Wan’s senses. 

With it came pictures of younglings being slain by Vader’s hand, causing Obi-Wan to gasp and shiver. The memory of it made him physically ill whenever he wasn’t strong enough to keep it out of mind. It had been something he actively avoided ever since he first laid eyes on that wretched recording. 

The sight of young lives being taken, dying so violently. By the hand of the man he once had loved. He didn’t want to imagine the horrible things Vader must have done since then. It was enough that Obi-Wan could feel death all across the galaxy, like so many knife wounds to the heart of the light, making it dwindle and cry out. He didn’t want to know anything more.

“You’re repulsed by me,” Vader said, a dark sounding satisfaction taking hold in his voice as his gold eyes shone with darkness. “You should be. You’re right to fear me.”

“I”m not afraid of you,” Obi-Wan spat back hastily, as harshly as he could muster. If only it had been true. He wished it were so. 

“You are.” Vader spoke softly, leaning in close, his lips grazing the edge of Obi-Wan’s ear. His wicked words played on every bit of the man he couldn’t touch, hurting him in ways that only he was capable of. Because only the words of the one who used to be Anakin Skywalker could cut so deeply. “You’re afraid of everything. You’re broken, Obi-Wan.”

It hurt because Obi-Wan knew it was the truth. He was indeed broken, he had been for some time. Maybe even before all of this, there must have been some fatal flaw. Something that had led to all the pain and suffering that had ensued. But if there had ever been a question before, now he was certain. 

He was nothing, just a shattered thing of a man who had once been so sure of himself, so strong and brave. Now? He was afraid. Every hour of his existence he cowered, fearful and waiting for what next horrid thing he would be made to suffer through. 

“Just like you, Anakin was _weak_. I’ve become better. My Master was right, too long i’ve let myself be tainted by a jedi’s sentimentality,” Vader muttered at himself, rising up from the ground still a tad unsteady as Obi-Wan cowered. 

“I won’t let it hold me back any longer. I’m going to build an eternal Empire, nothing will stop me, certainly not the ghost of _Anakin Skywalker._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an extra note to all my readers, mental health is very important and abuse in any capacity is no joke, and has very real, very serious effects. Please take care of yourselves! If you are suffering, please reach out to a local mental health professional. You don't have to suffer alone, and there is help.
> 
> See you soon in the next chapter :D
> 
> As always, thank you for reading :)


	6. Leverage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I hope you are all doing well, and I wish you all the happiest of holidays!
> 
> See you all again soon in the next chapter! :D

The next few days drug on for what felt like forever, as time had slowed to an intolerable and painstakingly sluggish pace. For the majority of the time all Deidra heard was deafening, ominous silence. Though as the days passed the still air became frequently punctuated by the intermittent screams and howls of whoever had the pleasure of being tortured down the corridor from where she anxiously waited.

Although she had received a few hunks of bread accompanied by few muddy cups of water, mosty she wasn’t able to eat. Every time she thought she might be able to stomach it there would be another blood curdling scream causing her to lose her appetite. Amidst it all, the dirty sour water she forced herself to drink only _just_ kept her from the brink of crippling dehydration. 

Not helping matters, was how she longed for a shower. Even a change of clothes alone would have sufficed. But in all reality, it ranked very low on her list of worries. Though between desperate thoughts and horrid screams she couldn’t help but loathe the feel of her sweat-matted dress and undergarments. They had only been made more uncomfortable by the water that had dried stiffly into them, making her chaffe terribly.

Between all the unplesantries of her current situation, she had _attempted_ to sleep on the stone floor since the cell had been void of anything even slightly forgiving to rest against. For the most part sleep had become fleeting. Instead her mind had been kept alert, even when her body ached for rest. 

Because her body may have been stuck in a cage but more often than not, her mind was with her grandmother. She wished and hoped she would get to see her again soon. She knew Thea well enough to know she would be in stitches, completely lost with worry and grief. Deidra could feel within herself, the echo of those same things. 

Day after day she might have felt hunger claw at her, were it not for the adrenaline keeping her bursting at the seams with restless energy despite far surpassing exhaustion. The only thing she could feel past her own heart frantically and feintly rattling behind her ribs was the dehydration that began to grow cruel, making her lips feel dry and her breaths labored. 

But as the days came and went, the occasional cries and screams from down the hall that had become more frequent, also grew in volume and desperation. On the morning of the fourth day in captivity, she scrambled close to the door of her cell, pressing her ear up against it to hear more of what she really didn’t want to hear at all. 

A scuffle, followed by a crash. Then tortured words. “ _No, please, I swear, that’s all I know,_ ” a man’s voice cried out past ripped and abused vocal chords.

Then there were grunts along with the repetitive thud of flesh being met with blunt force trauma. Deidra’s stomach began to feel sick. She thought she might have thrown up, had she anything in her stomach. 

Then there was another voice, that of the man who had interrogated her when she had first awoken. Just as he had with her, he spoke softly. The annunciation of his words wasn’t distinguishable from down the hall. Though she could feel something in her bones, a resonance of a terrible feeling winding up her spine and limbs. 

It told her to run, to escape. Only that was impossible. It only made her feel more terrified and helpless instead as she was unable to bend to the animal will from deep within her biological code. 

Then more thuds and cries sounded out as the rebels words were met with silence from their captive. And then, nothing.

But footsteps began to grow louder and more audible as they came closer to the corridor. The sound of a body being drug against the rough stone floor could be heard as the door to the hall creaked open on rusty iron hinges. 

“Put him in the cell, and get me that girl,” the man commanded. 

“I don’t know, Saw, I think this one’s dead,” another voice called out, questioning and unsure. “Maybe we should put him in a bag, instead.”

A pause.

“No, he’s still breathing. If he dies later, oh well,” Saw said gruffly, completely unaffected. 

Deidra pulled back from the door just in time before the guard slammed it open, tossing Yaron’s battered body in beside her. Her eyes went wide with fear as she saw him leaking red everywhere, his body littered with bruises and lacerations. Before she had a moment to kneel by his side and help quell the bleeding, two of the rebel cohorts reached down to hoist her up and out of the cell rather forcibly, not waiting to ask her to move of her own volition. 

She craned her head back to look at Yaron as she was rushed down the hall. She could feel the imminence of death in the air, the slick of bloodied hands on her skin. It was the blood of the man who lie bleeding out in the cell, most likely dying. 

“He-he’s going to die, he needs a doctor!” Deidra shouted, wrenching away from the hands that refused to let go. “I can help him, let me _help_ him,” she begged, her mind struggling with the concept of treating any life so carelessly. 

“If he dies, that’s his own problem. You need to start thinking about yourself, Deidra,” Saw said smoothly as she was led back to the chair at the center of the round room. 

The last time she was here, she had been all but blinded by a harsh and unforgiving light. Now she could see the brick work that made up the walls and floor of the windowless room. All of it dirtied with pools and splashes of crimson and bits of viscera. The chair she was being shackled to, much to her repulsion, was wet and soiled with bodily fluids. 

All of the horror was lit by dim ambient light that shone down from mock-skylight fixtures and warm fluorescent bars that were attached higher up on the walls. The amber and sepia tones they cast only made the blood spilled look that much more gruesome. Though as she looked around, she regarded the rebels in the room with a certain measure of fear, realizing Saw along with the others no longer hid their faces behind scarves. 

“You lied to us, Deidra. I told you before, this didn’t have to be difficult. But you’ve forced my hand.” 

“I didn’t lie, I swear. There must be some misunderstanding.” Deidra plead, looking intently into Saw’s wild and unforgiving eyes. 

“Yesterday morning a squad of stormtroopers lead by a high ranking Imperial officer was seen at your residence. Your grandmother certainly looked to be having a cordial enough conversation with them.” Saw said, studying Deidra’s reaction. 

Her face twisted with confusion. “I have no idea what any of that is about,” she said in earnest. “I swear, there must be some sort of explanation.” 

“Oh, indeed i’m sure there is. Why don’t you enlighten us? I’m giving you just one more chance to tell us what you know.” Saw said, stepping closer, his hand resting over his holstered blade threateningly. 

Deidra’s heart began to race uncontrollably as her chest began to restrict. She shook her head in disbelief, feeling an unsettling distance grow between herself and the situation that unfolded. “This is a _nightmare,_ ” she whispered near inaudibly. If only she could will herself to wake up. 

“Just tell us what you know, it can all be over.” Saw said reassuringly this time as he leaned in close, trying to coax out any intel he could. 

Deidra sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. If she falsified any information, the rebels would find out. It wouldn’t gain her any favor, surely. But they wouldn’t believe the truth, either- that she honestly didn’t know anything. 

As she sat in indecision Saw grew impatient. Displeased with her silence he struck out, backhanding her hard causing her to gasp sharply. Deidra’s head snapped to the side as a small trickle of blood sprang from where her cheek had split from the impact.

“What intel have you pushed for the Imperials?” Saw asked again, still no aggression to his voice as he gently thumbed over the break in her porcelain skin. 

“I haven’t-” Deidra started, and was interrupted by another backhand, this one stronger and harsher than the last. 

“We’re past the point of playing games, Deidra,” Saw said with a gentle cadence to his voice.

Deidra began to hyperventilate, straining her neck away from the cruel man who leaned in again threateningly. “I know right now, you’re thinking of all the ways the Imperials are going to punish you for betraying them. But they’re not the ones you should be afraid of,” Saw said as he took her face into his hands roughly, forcing her gaze to meet his crazed stare that spoke to his unhinged state. “It’s _me_ you should be afraid of.”

“And trust me, I get it. We killed your family. I know what it’s like to lose everything, too.” He said as if he were trying to find common ground between the two of them. 

This time Deidra willingly glared back at him with an angry stare of her own. Saw smiled. “You want to kill us for it. You would do anything to make us pay for what we did. Even if it means working with Imperials. You said it yourself, after all.”

Deidra’s glare intensified in ferocity, her anger underwritten with fear and distress. There was nothing she could say to make them believe her and she knew it. Suddenly she realized, there was no way she was ever going to get out of here alive. But she couldn’t give in to thinking that way, she wouldn’t allow it. No, there still had to be a way, surely. This couldn’t be it, could it?

“You’re _still_ not going to talk, _are you?_ ” Saw remarked, somewhat impressed. “That’s fine, we have ways of making people talk.” He added as he pulled back, releasing her face from his grasp as he turned to talk to one of the rebels who stood at the fringes of the room.

“Lux, get me the nerve stripper.” Saw ordered casually as he was silently obeyed. 

Deidra’s insides churned as she trembled. She closed her eyes in fatigue, suddenly feeling faint. Immediately Deidra cursed herself for being so weak. They had hardly touched her at all and already she was wilting like a cut flower left out to wither away. Was she really so fragile? No, she would fight it. She would fight everything they tried on her until her last breath. 

Though she couldn’t help but feel a wave of nausea sweep over her as Lux returned with a small boxy device in hand, wires jutting out of it, coiling everywhere. The man held another box in his other hand, clear plastic to show smaller needles and instruments within. 

Saw pulled over a small metal table and chair, scraping them across the rough stone ground causing a terrible screeching to fill the air, perhaps with intent to make every experience as miserable as possible. The look on his face suggested as much. Next he positioned the chair directly opposite Deidra, with the table off to one side. Lux set the device on the table with care, the box of attachments clunking down beside it. 

Without a word and still sporting that satisfied smug look on his face, Saw began configuring the device methodically, as if he had done it a hundred times over. Only a few moments later he switched the device on. Immediately it filled the room with a high pitched whirring as it charged up. Even the sound of it was ominous, alone. 

“Lux, steady her,” Saw ordered as the rebel came around her side, forcing her hand into a splayed position taking care to hold her middle finger steady. Without any other word or question Saw plunged the instrument’s needle deep into the tip of her finger.

Immediately Deidra gasped, grinding her teeth as she resisted the cry that wanted to escape her tightly held vocal chords. First, it was only the stabbing pain of the needle, which was unpleasant enough on its own, but she held herself fast against it. But only seconds later the sensation spread like icy lightning in a dendritic pattern through her hand and arm up into her shoulder. She couldn’t hold back the tortured cries any longer as the cold burning grew to a hot searing pain that spread over every inch of the skin of her arm, lighting up every nerve with unimaginable pain. 

Her body began to convulse against it as she cried out. What might have only been a few seconds felt like an eternal hell within itself before Saw pulled the needle back out of her finger, only a small bead of red showing from all the burning pain that had been inflicted. Even still it felt as if her blood had turned to acid, corroding through her tissue from the inside, out. Her eyes poured involuntary tears that she blinked through, struggling to catch her breath while she could. 

“Shh, shh,” Saw cooed, wiping her eyes with a small cloth he withdrew from one of the many pockets on the side of his trousers. “There, there. It’ll all be okay. Just tell us what you know and this can all go away.” 

Deidra’s body still shook, tremoring from the core as she fought against her jaw that had locked down on her, as she tried to speak. “I-I… I’m not… I don’t…” She stammered, still blinking through the free flowing tears that cascaded down her swollen face. 

“Take your time. Tell us everything.” Saw said patiently, leaning forward in his chair to examine her with interest. 

“I don’t have anything to tell!” Deidra cried out, her voice still unsteady. “I’m sorry, i’m not who you think I am!” She plead, body shaking now from fear of what they would do to her next. 

“You know, i’ve got to admit. You’re a whole lot tougher to crack than I thought you would be.” Saw said, nodding his head in acknowledgement, voice still sounding slightly impressed. “Your associate started spilling before we even laid a hand on him. Makes me wish you were working for us, instead.”   
“I swear i’m not working for-”

Saw silenced her with a rough bloodied finger pressed to her tear-swollen lips. “Shh, don’t insult my intelligence, sweetie,” he said, shaking his head as he reprimanded her in his ever gentle, caustic voice. 

Then he turned to the rebel who stood just behind the chair, ready and waiting for orders. “Lux, again.” Saw commanded, turning up the frequency dial a few notches before plunging the needle back into her skin.

After what felt like forever, but was only a few grueling hours later, Deidra had become near despondent, her entire body screaming with hellish pain. Saw circled the chair she was bound to, visibly frustrated. 

“Obviously this isn’t going to work like I thought it would. We’re going to have to go about this… some _other_ way…” he said open-endedly, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair. 

Saw switched his attention to Lux. “Put her back in the cell while I figure out something else…” He commanded with a wave of his hand. Immediately Lux took to unbinding her and hoisting her up over his shoulder. Clearly he had done this enough to know when the subject in question was no longer able to move on their own. Deidra didn’t think she could move an inch if she tried. Though moving was such an effort, she wasn’t even about to try. 

If she were any more coherent she might have resisted being picked up and carried like a sack of Corellian potatoes. Though she no longer held any ounce of tenacity or fight in her tortured body. The life that kept her soul alight felt as if it were waning, as she wondered if she would actually find a way out of this horrible place at all. 

It was an odd feeling, one that only added to the despair that had begun to take hold in her mind. The thoughts that suggested she might never see the sun again, never behold her grandmother’s kind smile, became more real than she would have liked to admit. Everything about who she was, who she had been, felt like it was slipping away from her in what was seeming to be her last harrowing hours.

The girl who believed in the goodness and kindness of others felt cheated by the cruel reality that took the place of her ever beholden illusion. There was no final breath of courage she could call on, and even if there were it would do little to change her situation. She would need a miracle to escape this place alive, and she wasn’t sure she believed in those. 

And as comforting as it might have been, it was too late to stew in regret. Not even the bittersweet of what might have been could tame the heavy reality that crushed her chest, making it difficult to breathe. 

Once Lux had pulled the door to her cell open, he tossed her down without a thought to her comfort, then quickly slammed the door behind him. Deidra’s body ached and screamed as she wriggled away from the corpse that lie at the center of a sticky puddle of blood. Her dress, her once beautiful, ornately woven dress now sodden with mud and filth, and now the cold coagulating blood of the man she had only met a few days ago. The one that had seemed to be nice enough, though clearly nothing had been as it had appeared. 

Retreating from the wide pool of red that had taken up too much of the space in the cell, Deidra pressed her back up against the wall. She lie on her side gazing out at what surely would sooner than later, be her fate as well. 

As she lie in her catatonic stupor, her body gave a startled jolt as she heard angry shouts from down the hall suddenly break the still air. Deidra wavered between straining to listen, and shutting everything out entirely. The part of her that had already surrendered to her horrendous circumstances told her to just let it go, that nothing mattered anymore. The part of her that housed the tiny spark of life that refused to give up, compelled her to listen.

There were frantic voices mumbling and whispering, a few growls and noises of protest in response before a man’s voice spoke up- one timid and undermined by fear. “It’s too risky, we can’t send out one of our own for the sake of more leverage. Not now, with the first Legion turning the city upside down! You know what their presence here means, Saw. Our time is up! We should get out of here while we can!”

“We’ve got to find out what this girls importance is to the Empire. If she’s important enough for Vaders own troops to show up looking for her, that means we’re onto something big! We would be fools to give up now!” Saw insisted, his oddly punctuated voice grinding out words as he asserted his dominance over the situation. 

“Where the first Legion goes, Vader is never far behind. Is that what you want? If he finds us, we’re all as good as dead, or worse! Any intel we’ve gained will have been for nothing.” The voice retorted, a trifle more steady this time. 

Deidra’s heart dropped, unsure whether to be afraid or hopeful. At best she was feeling a mixture of both churn uneasily in her stomach. 

Vader’s troops were here, on Onderon? Looking for _her?_ Deidra immediately wrote it off as another misunderstanding. No one was looking for her besides her grandmother. Certainly not Vader’s troops. 

Darth Vader wasn’t real. Not to the common folk of the Empire, certainly not to her here, or ever. Sure she had heard the name whispered here and there. He was the mysterious man harold both as valiant hero of the Empire, and ruthless warrior. The latter descriptor had been attached to strings of rumors, mostly told by light of campfire, or in bedrooms as younglings would whisper of monsters lurking in the shadows. The most feared of all being the dreaded Dark Lord. The man who left a trail of dead bodies wherever he went, who made all fear him with a simple glance of his amber yellow stare. 

Yes, his face had been plastered all over the holo-net in the early days of the empire. The head of a large and sweeping propaganda campaign to get soldiers to enlist in the Emperor's grand army. He had been the object of many young girls’ and boys’ wild fantasies alike, just as he had been the villain of too many scary stories. But among all of the chatter and talk, he had become nothing more than a myth. Something for people to rally behind, or to fear. In the case of Darth Vader, often times it was both.

But Deidra had never given much thought as to his actuality or existence, and certainly had never imagined his own personal Legion being sent to retrieve her from the clutches of unruly rebel scum. Though it did sound like something out of one of those propaganda campaigns, the more she thought about it. Not that she had much time to think on it at all, as she strained her ear even harder, dragging her body to the door to listen closer, even as her nerves echoed that terrible pain that had been forced through them for hours on end. 

“We’ve come too far to give up now, Lux. And for what? For a handful of intel, things we mostly knew already, or assumed to be true? _No._ Everything here points to something bigger, something _huge._ Giving up now is not an option.” Saw said, his voice growling and undulating mechanically. 

“I’m telling you, it won’t matter if we’re dead. You’ve got to think this through, Saw.” Lux entreated. 

“No. We’re following the plan. You’ll head the op. Just don’t get caught, and don’t catch a tail. It’s just business as usual.” Saw said, his fearsome voice begotten by the finality of his decision. 

“I still say this is a bad idea.” Lux said, audibly fearful of executing whatever it was they had planned. 

“You’ll do as I say,” Saw said threateningly. “Or are you a _deserter?_ ” 

“Back off big guy, I know the plan. I just don’t agree. Is that treason in your book, too?” Lux shot back, voice unabated by whatever fear had been there before. 

“Just get it done, and _fast._ ” Saw snapped back, annoyed. Footsteps retreated, tamping further and further away until there was only silence again. 

Deidra racked her mind in an attempt to make any sense of what she had just heard. Perhaps her mind had dulled after so much pain and torture, because she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. All she held onto was the fleeting hope that maybe, just maybe someone was out there looking for her. Though if that were true, they had to have been wrong about it being Vader’s troops. 

If the first legion was really on Onderon, they must have been after something else. Maybe hunting down the already dead Imperial spy. Still, that could benefit her if they could manage to track him down. Deidra found it nearly painful to allow herself to hope such things. But in spite of it, she did. She didn’t want to give up yet, even if things seemed so grim. 

A sizable stretch of time passed in silence, the only audible sound beyond her own breathing being the dripping of water that had started to fall from the stone ceiling, down into a small puddle that had formed in the far corner of the cell.

Lulled into a trance like state by the rhythmic dripping of the water, Deidra drifted off into an unconscious state, only awoken when the door to her cell was being thrown open again. Two of the rebels came in after her as she lie unmoving. This time they grabbed at her arms and hair violently as they drug her out. She cried out from the shock of sudden violence, her voice tattered and ragged from too much screaming from the torture session earlier that day. 

Clearly they had no patience. She tried desperately to pick herself up only for the rebels to pull on her hair and shoulders harder as the skin of her kicking legs scraped against the rough stone floor. This time when she reached the interrogation room she was thrown to the floor instead of shackled to the wooden chair that sat at the center. 

Deidra willed herself to get up, only managing to scramble to her knees before being knocked down by a kick to the ribs. She looked up at Saw who stood over her, his ever smug and satisfied face glaring down at her. Then she looked to the center of the room. 

Her heart pounded in her chest with both anger and desperation as she saw her grandmother shackled to the chair in her stead, already roughed up by the brutes who had brought her here. 

“ _Grandma!_ ” Deidra screamed out, her vocal chords grinding against one another as they felt as if any moment, between the tension and abuse, they might snap.

“Deidra! Thank the heavens you’re _alive!_ ” Thea cried out. Even in these circumstances, her weathered face shone with one of her beautiful genuine smiles. It pained Deidra’s heart to see Thea’s thin lips bloodied and her delicate face bruised. Her insides churned with desperation when the old woman’s eyes poured over with tears. “I thought you were dead,” she said, her voice breaking with her confession. 

“ _Let her go!_ ” Deidra growled, her deduced state made even more so by seeing her grandmother in such a way. 

“Sure, sure. I’ll let her go. But first, you’ll tell me everything there is to know about the operation you and Yaron were running.” Saw said, kneeling down at her side, placing a hand on her shoulder that caused her to shudder with revulsion before snapping away from the contact. 

Deidra composed herself well enough, looking up into Saw’s eyes with as much furocity as she could muster. “I told you, I don’t know anything! You rebels truly are a dull bunch, aren’t you?” She said, as cuttingly as possible, only earning a sadistic smile from the man who glared back at her. 

“Yeah, I thought you might start off with something like that again,” he said on the edge of wry amusement as he looked over to Lux who stood at Thea’s side.

Saw gave him a small nod. In turn, Lux pulled his hand back, slapping Thea across the face hard causing her to give a startled cry. Though in spite of it, she didn’t seem to be too shaken. Deidra’s heart gripped in her chest, knowing that her grandmother was putting on a tough face for her, just as she had always done. 

But Deidra couldn’t stand it. She didn’t want her to have to be strong like this. It ignited a burning rage in her chest that drowned out all of the fear she had once felt for her own skin. “ _You monsters! If the seven hells exist, you’ll burn in them forever for the things you’ve done!_ ” Deidra roared, scrambling to reach Thea only to be kicked back down. 

“Just tell us what you know. It can be so simple.” Saw said, standing over Deidra’s seething form. “I don’t know why you have to make everything so _difficult._ ” 

“I told you, you have the wrong person!” Deidra said, taking her tone back down a notch to implore him. She would do anything if it meant her grandmother’s safety. 

Saw bent down, taking a fist full of her hair in hand to wrench her face close, untill she could feel the heat of his skin on her face. “ _Let go of me!_ ” Deidra shouted, pulling against his grip, only to be yanked back harder. 

Saw’s piercing gaze cut right through her, as his stare penetrated to the very depths of her soul. All she could feel from him was raw, untamable, unyielding brutality. He was an immovable object, or perhaps an unstoppable force. Either way, there was no changing his mind, even if things had played better to her side.

As he stared her down, meaning to intimidate, she could feel pieces of his heart and psyche, broken and wild. For a fleeting moment, she swore she could feel inside of his mind. The deep sea of wild hatred, wells of sorrow covered by anger and ruthless action. But her focus was shaken as he opened his mouth to speak, growling low with base anger. 

“If you’re really no one special, why is Vader’s personal squadron turning the city upside down, looking for you?”

“You must be mistaken. There’s no reason they would be looking for me,” Deidra said honestly, a tone even less aggressive than before. 

Saw’s invasive gaze became disgusted as he tossed her aside, throwing her to the floor once again before turning to Lux. “The stripper,” he said with a summoning gesture. The rebel underling took to pulling the metal table and chair over to where Thea sat, and began assembling it as Saw had when Deidra had been in Thea’s place. 

“No _no no,_ I swear I don’t know anything, please just leave her _alone,_ ” Deidra started, hands before herself in a prayer pose as she begged on her knees. 

Saw ignored her. “Start on the highest setting, Lux,” he said as the machine whirred up again, that sickening nauseous whine buzzing in her ears. 

Before Deidra could scream for him to stop, or even breathe at all, a small beeping began to ring out. Along with it, a red light blinked near to the door opposite the one that led down to the cells. Saw’s crazed stare flitted over to Lux, who looked back at him with a certain amount of fear in his eyes. 

“You said you weren’t followed!” Saw accused, outraged. 

“I-I didn’t think we were... I don’t think we were!” Lux shouted back. 

Another rebel spoke up from the back of the room. “It doesn’t matter now, the proximity alarm has been triggered. We’ve got to salvage what we can from this and get out of here,” the woman said pragmatically as she slowly came forward. 

“She’s right, we’ve gotta get out of here.” Lux retorted, his voice a shade less terrified that he had been a moment earlier. “Let’s just kill the both of them and leave, we won’t be able to take them with us.” 

“ _What?_ ” Deidra said in a small voice, her eyes darting back and forth between the two rebels as Lux pulled out a small blaster that had been holstered on his hip. 

“No! We can’t kill them now, not when we’re so close! We have to take them with us. The intel is too valuable to lose!” Saw retorted, as the woman who stood by began to anxiously tap her foot. 

“This is no time to discuss this,” the woman added impatiently. “We have mere minutes to get out of here alive before Vader’s fist comes crashing down on us!”

“Kill them now and let’s get out of here!” Lux shouted, demanding. “Or i’ll do it,” he said lower, holding the blaster to Thea’s skull. 

“No!” Deidra shouted, rising up to her feet, or at least trying to, only to be kicked down again by Saw’s boot.

“Don’t forget who calls the shots, Lux. Stand down.” Saw said, hand hovering over his own blaster. 

“Lux!” The woman rebel shouted out. “Don’t be stupid!” 

Lux looked back and forth between the two other rebels before holstering his weapon. “Whatever you say, Saw. I just hope it doesn’t get us _killed._ ”

“We’ll talk about this little stunt later, _Lux._ For now get grandma out of this chair and ready to evacuate with the others out the east tunnel. Annita, you take care of the girl. Aside from the two prisoners, it’s standard procedure. Don’t forget your training. Especially you, _Lux._ ” Saw said, adding the last bit with a cutting stare towards his dissonante colleague. 

Lux gave him a sharp glance in return before unshackling Thea from the wooden chair. In the next heartbeat both Thea and Deidra had black hoods pulled over their faces, and blasters pressed against their backs. 

“Don’t give me a reason to shoot either of you. I won’t hesitate, no matter what Saw says. I’m not risking you falling into enemy hands.” Lux growled spitefully as both women were yanked up and pushed forward down the unfamiliar hallway and through a junction of corridors that were equally foreign. 

There was an odd smell in the air, something metallic. The floor that had once been stone was now dusty and then became damp, a coating of mud collecting on her shoes. The ones she wore had never been intended for use beyond formal settings, so she stumbled to keep up as she was pressed further into the unknown passages, the mud doing her no favors. 

Then suddenly there was blaster fire in the corridor behind them, sounding as if it came from around a bend. The thud of bodies hitting the ground, and boots falling in fast behind them echoed next. Shouts of men, _soldiers,_ pursued their location. Deidra’s heart flushed with hope at the sound of it. 

In a scuffle, the two rebels that held blasters at Deidra and Thea’s backs took to firing bolts in the direction that the troops marched in from. Taking the opportunity, Deidra took her hood off and hastily turned to Thea, taking hers off as well. 

The corridor they were in was dark, dimly lit by overhead fluorescent lighting. It looked like an abandoned mining tunnel, endless darkness in the direction behind them where the lighting stopped a few meters ahead. In the opposite direction a group of rebels including the two that had been charged with their survival, and blaster fire, stood between themselves and the soldiers that ensued. 

Little cover existed between the two lines of fire, causing bodies to drop quickly, especially on the side of the rebels who were left without armor. The white, hard-plated shell that encased each Imperial soldier made them near impervious to blaster fire. 

As fast as she could, Deidra took Thea and shielded her as she moved over to take cover behind a half blasted mining cart that had been put on its side and since had been left to collect dust. She took to peaking out around the torn metal corner of it, looking for an opportunity to break through to the other side, to their supposed rescuers. 

Thea shook Deidra’s shoulder, breaking her attention away from the battle that raged on only meters in front of them. “If we don’t make it out of here, I want you to know-”

Deidra cut her off. “We _are_ going to get out of here, grandma, we just have to get to the soldiers at the other side,” she explained as level as she could without bursting into tears, the weight of every terrible thing she had experienced in the last several days finally coming to a head. 

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Thea said, glancing towards the blaster fire and back at her granddaughter. 

“Let’s keep it that way so we can talk about it more later,” Deidra suggested with a desperate chuckle just before she pushed Thea aside with her own body weight to avoid a singing blaster bolt that just barely grazed the side of her head. “Now stay down until I say run, understand?” She spoke, wincing at the stinging pain that lanced on the side of her skull.

Thea answered with a silent nod as Deidra continued to watch the battle play out. Her heart sank as the Soldiers in white were now flanked by another squad of rebels from behind. These ones were still not nearly as well armored as the Imperials, though they managed to scrounge up some crude pieces to help even the playing field. 

The additional forces even though poorly armored, were enough to overwhelm the stormtroopers. The rebels simply outnumbered them. Being barraged from both sides, the Imperials began to fall, one by one. Rebels from all around began to cry and holler for victory as they moved in on the last few. Deidra hoped the win would be a fleeting one. Before she had much time to despair, a hand came over her shoulder. 

Already on edge, Deidra gave an involuntary yelp before spinning around to see another squad of troops. These ones were clad in special black fatigues, probably to remain incognito. The troop leader waved them back as they retreated into the darkness. 

Thankfully, none of the rebels had been alerted by her startled cry. The two of them rushed off, a wave of relief falling over Deira’s tortured, exhausted soul as the squad enveloped them, placing them at the center of their protection. 

But still, they weren’t out of the thick of it, yet. However being surrounded by the troopers, specialists in their ranks most likely, she did feel slightly better about their chances. And they did manage to stay unnoticed by the rebels for the most part, until the squad of white-clad troopers had all fallen. The large group of rebels that had amassed to overtake them began to follow after the stealth team that had whisked Deidra and Thea away. Too soon, blaster bolts went buzzing through the air, entirely too close for comfort. 

And then the two soldiers at the rear of their detail fell, each taking a fatal bolt. Apparently their stealth suits were not as well equipped to take damage as their white armored counterparts. The rest of the squad fell back a few steps forming a line between the rebels and Deidra and Thea. While holding line dutifully, the soldiers continued to retreat for the exit, firing a volley of blaster bolts into the ever-thinning group of rebels that chased after them. 

The squad reacted with impressive accuracy. Deidra watched over her shoulder in awe as they kept on falling back into the darkness. Even as all around them was black, brilliant blue and red lights of blaster fire cutting through the darkness, the troopers picked off the pursuing rebels one by one. And then, Deidra could see a light growing closer at the end of the tunnel.

As they were only meters away from the mouth of the tunnel, the rebel count had fallen to two, both of them firing blaster bolts aimlessly towards the mouth of the dark corridor. Just before the troopers could put down the last of them, Thea gasped, falling forward hard into Deidra. 

Deidra fell forwards from the impact, then quickly righted herself to see her grandmother on the muddy ground, clutching at her chest where a bolt had burned right through her fragile body. 

Deidra rushed over to her side, holding her grandmother in her arms. The life in her eyes was fading quickly as her hands trembled, clutching onto her granddaughter for dear life. 

Time had seemed to slow around them as Deidra looked on in horror as her grandmother struggled just to breathe. In her shock, a single tear fell down from her eye, splashing on Thea’s wrinkled cheek as the old woman smiled up at her sadly. 

“Don’t forget to _live,_ ” Thea gasped as the last of the rebels had been put down, the air that had once been rife with blaster fire becoming erily still. 

“Grandma, stay with me, _please,_ ” Deidra begged fruitlessly as her core began to tremble. 

“I… I…” Thea trailed off, her last words forever unspoken as the light that was once the fabric of her soul had died out, leaving only an empty vessel, broken and bleeding in Deidra’s arms. 

“No,” Deidra whispered, as the ground beneath her began to tremor, as if it could feel her pain. “ _No,_ ” she said loud and more firmly as the corridor now began to quake as rock and debris started to fall from the ceiling. 

“I’m sorry miss, but we have to leave, this passage is not stable,” one trooper said apologetically, grabbing her arm and pulling her up as her grandmother’s body lie unnaturally still on the ground below. 

“We can’t just leave her!” Deidra yelled over the noise, larger rocks tumbling from the ceiling of the corridor as the rumbling grew louder. Suddenly, a cascade of falling debris began to fill in the tunnel from the far end, rushing towards them at a frightening pace. 

Just as Deidra reached down to grab Thea, a cluster of boulders fell on top of her body, leaving her completely buried under the rubble. No longer in the business of asking or persuading, one trooper took her forcibly by the arm and pulled her out as the rest of them ran for the exit. All of them had just made it out by a fraction of a second before the entire tunnel collapsed into a mess of boulders and rock. 

Deidra stood facing the collapsed mining tunnel, promptly falling to her knees in disbelief. 

At a time she thought she had lost everything. When her mother, father, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles had all died in the market bombing all those years ago, she didn’t think it was possible for anything to hurt worse. She spent all of her days trying to move past it, trying to be the best person she could be for them, to honor their memory. She thought the worst had already happened, that it could only get better from then.

But the worst hadn’t happened yet, and only now had she truly lost everything. As her beloved grandmother lie dead, broken, buried forever underneath too much rubble to ever sort through. She knelt there, equally broken in spirit.

“I’m sorry miss, we have to keep going,” one soldier said remorsefully as he placed a consoling hand on her shoulder which she promptly shrugged away. 

“What are you talking about?” Deidra said angrily, all but growling at the man. 

“We have to continue on to Coruscant. With all the commotion, you probably don’t know. You’ve been summoned to the Imperial palace.” The trooper explained as softly as he could. 

Her gut wrenched. She couldn’t leave, not with her grandmother stuck under all this rubble. It didn’t feel right. If she left, she would be leaving Thea, forever. But she was gone already, and nothing was going to change that. 

“I-I can’t leave her here,” Deidra cried, curling up against the rock that spilled out from the collapsed tunnel.

“Take your time, ma’am. But eventually, we are going to have to leave. And i’m under strict orders to see you to the Imperial palace.” The soldier spoke understanding yet firm. 

She didn’t have any words to answer with, as she could only feel the gaping hole in her heart consume her. She had thought it had been her way of life, the apothecary holding her together all this time after the loss of her family. She had been wrong. The apothecary, helping people, it only meant something because of Thea. Without her, nothing had meaning. 

“Ten minutes and we have to start heading out if we are going to make it back in time.” The lead soldier said kindly, keeping a respectful distance. 

Deidra scoffed. “Oh? What happens if we don’t make it back in time?” What could possibly be so important?

In a measured voice, one that held a certain amount of fearful tension, the soldier answered. 

“It’s never wise to keep the Emperor waiting.”


	7. Emperor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have a happy new years eve! And a wonderful 2019, of course! 
> 
> See you very, very soon in the next chapter- I'm double posting today! :D

Shock had settled over Deidra in a thin veil, making it impossible to stay tethered to reality. Too much had happened too fast, too many things had gone wrong. Now she was summoned to the imperial court to appear before the Emperor? She felt as if she had gone to sleep and woken up in someone else’s life. Though no matter how many times she had insisted they must be mistaken, the troops that rescued her insisted she was indeed summoned. 

She wanted to kick and scream, to dig her heels in the dirt and make them drag her away as she mourned over her grandmothers unseemly grave. But instead the elite soldiers gave her as much distance and time to grieve as they could allow. She hardly had the fight left in her to resist their direction when they said they had run out of time. She couldn’t speak for the rest of the squad as they were near silent the entire time, but the Commander in charge had seemed kind enough. At the very least he had been sympathetic to her plight. Though she couldn’t decide if that made her more or less angry. 

It had been a silent walk back to the modest grouping of speeder bikes that were parked a few kilometers out from where they had emerged from the mining tunnel. She mounted one bike, grabbing onto the soldier who piloted as they kicked off. The wind felt odd against her face as they accelerated, since she was still completely numb from the shock of everything. It was just as empty feeling as her hollow core, the one her gut wrenched around as it felt the gaping void in the person she once was become dark and fester. 

But she couldn’t feel it, not like she knew she would once the shock faded. But for now it was okay that she couldn’t really connect with any of it. It was better that way. If it weren’t for the distance between herself and the unfolding events, she might never have let them take her away from that pile of rubble. She would want to stay there and die with the last of her blood line, rather than be forced to live without meaning. 

If only she had been a few moments quicker, or if she would have thought to shield Thea from the possible incoming blaster bolts. It was too late for any of that now, of course. But it didn’t stop her from having the thoughts play on an endless loop inside the merciless theater of her mind. 

But as they squadron had reached the landing craft, the triangular shaped shuttle that was meant to carry them out of orbit, Deidra’s heart began to race. Tears of fear began to well in her eyes as she became frantic. This was it, she was leaving. She was leaving Thea here, alone at the bottom of a pile of rubble for her poor crushed body to rot and decay. It was wrong, it was all _wrong._

At the foot of the boarding ramp, Deidra hesitated while the rest of the squad continued on past her. The Commander turned to face her, a sorry look on his face. It was even more disorienting and nightmarish to see the same face look back at her in the other members of the squad as they waited for her onboard, significantly less empathetic and perhaps even a shade resentful. They probably hated her for some of their own being killed during the rescue op. It was no well kept secret that clones held a close knit brotherhood within their ranks. The thought only added to her anxiety and growing panic. 

“It’s time for us to go, Miss Hardell,” the Commander said in a gruff yet understanding tone. 

“I-I can’t,” Deidra said, beginning to hyperventilate. 

“You’ve been through a lot,” he said kindly, walking out towards her with a hand held pensively, as if he were walking towards a wild animal. “Why don't we get you some medical attention, okay?”

Deidra’s head began to spin. She felt like she was standing on a ledge, about to fall. She could feel in her bones the permanence of what was about to happen. That once she left Onderon, she was never coming back. 

Suddenly she regretted all of those sleepless nights she dared to dream about what might await her among the stars, away from Onderon. She could feel the promise of it, and she would hope with her whole heart that one day she would be taken away, far away. But after the death of nearly all of her family, she stopped dreaming those things. She accepted her place, her role in taking care of her grandmother. But now that even Thea was gone, she felt like her whole life was in free fall. Like this was all her fault, for wishing and hoping too much. The universe had listened to her, she was finally leaving this place. If only the price had been less steep. 

“I’m never going to get to come back here, am I?” Deidra asked through a teary gaze. 

“To be honest miss, I don’t know. But I would say it’s a little soon to be assuming anything.” The man said gently. 

“I know i’m not. I can _feel_ it.” Deidra said emptily, her eyes going vacant. 

Something about her remark made the commander grow wary and even more timid, as if she might lash out at him in an instant. Deidra thought it curious that a soldier bred and trained from birth to kill and intimidate would be so easily put off. Especially when she wasn’t even trying to be menacing. It wasn’t as if she could actually hurt anyone even if she tried to. She had neither strength nor weight on her side in that regard.

“Please Miss, trust me when I say I don’t want to have to bring you aboard forcibly. But I will, if I have to. Come on, let’s get you some proper medical attention. It looks like those rebels roughed you up pretty bad.” The Commander said, on the edge of what might have been a plea dressed up to be more stern and persuasive.

Without another word Deidra walked aboard and followed the commander to the small med room that seemed much more like a broom closet. The attending medic was another one of the clones. His eyes studied her intensely as the Commander guided her to sit on the small med table.

“Fox, this here’s Deidra Hardell, our charge per orders from up top. Be sure to tend to all her injuries, she’s had a rough day.” The Commander said in an authoritative voice. 

“Sure thing, Appo.” Fox responded with a short nod as the Commander walked away. 

A few tests and bacta patches later, Fox had patched her up to the best of his ability. By that time the shuttle had landed in the hangar of the Dreadnought that would take them back to Coruscant. 

Appo rounded the corner of the small med bay, seeming to be in approval of Fox’s handiwork. “Perfect, just in time. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the handling officer. She’ll be taking care of you from here on out.” 

“Handling officer?” Deidra echoed, still feeling a strange lag between her words and the sound that reached her ears. 

“Yes, Officer Faro will be taking care of you on our way to Coruscant. It should be a relatively short trip over, only an hour or two. But it will give you some time to get cleaned up.” Appo said reassuringly as he led her out of the med closet and down the ramp into the larger hangar bay. 

Immediately outside the shuttle waited an officer who was smartly dressed with dark brown hair pulled tightly under her cap. She didn’t wait for an introduction as she stepped forward, smiling and reaching out to shake Deidra’s hand. 

Hesitantly, Deidra reciprocated the gesture. “You must be Deidra Hardell. I’m Officer Faro i’ll be showing you to your quarters and helping get you oriented.” The woman said brightly as the troops filed out of the transport and into the recesses of the dreadnaught. 

Deidra looked at her in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What is this all about?” She said quietly, taking breaths to try and keep herself calm. 

“You’ve been summoned to the Imperial court, my dear,” Faro said with a touch of gentle concern to her words. 

“For what? All this time and no one’s told me what this is all about. I have a right to know what’s going on here, don’t I?” Deidra said, wavering on the edge of tears again. 

“Oh dear, you’ve been through a lot in the last few days I’ve heard. You must be so exhausted.” Faro said overly sweet. Her tone began to rake on Deidra’s nerves insufferably. 

“ _Stop talking to me like that!_ ” She shouted, tears spilling over her red rimmed eyes. 

Faro took on a look of startled concern in response. She cleared her throat before she spoke again. “I’m sorry Miss, how about you just come with me now, okay?” Faro said, her voice a bit less sticky sweet though still irritatingly calm. 

But there it was again, the unmistakable look of fear that glinted only slightly in the woman’s eye. Deidra found it even more infuriating, though she also felt bad for making such a scene in front of a woman who was only trying to do her job. The imperials had rescued her and done nothing but take care of her ever since, and all she was doing in return was being difficult to deal with. 

Deidra took a deep shaky breath, wiping at her eyes tiredly. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just so much has happened so fast. I’m afraid I haven't slept very well over the last few days.” She confessed, suddenly aware of her eroding physical and mental state. 

“No need to apologize my dear,” Faro said with kind eyes. “Those cursed rebels have put you through hell. No one should have to endure what you’ve gone through.” 

Deidra began to crumble, unable to stop the tears that made it impossible to speak without sobbing. She held her hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep herself silent, to push away all the awful things that were pulling at her heart and mind. 

“Come now, enough talk. Follow me my dear,” Faro said sweetly again. This time Deidra didn’t mind. 

She followed the woman up into what appeared to be the executive wing of the vessel. Faro took her into a room that was quite large for a ships dwelling. Deidra immediately got the impression that this was not like most quarters aboard a dreadnaught. The trimmings of the room were far too lavish and the space itself far too big for practicality. 

“Well here we are,” she said, her arms sweeping over the room. “On the sleeper you’ll find a fresh change of clothes that have been chosen with presentation in mind. Straight after this you’ll be meeting with the Emperor _himself._ ” She stated with importance. 

“The fresher is past that door overthere. I hope you find everything to your liking. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call.” Faro said, handing a small personal communicator over to her. “We’ll be making orbit in about two hours. Be sure to be ready in time, alright? I’ll be back to get you when we are ready to go planetside.” 

Deidra looked around her then back to Faro with an astonished expression. The officer lingered a moment, waiting for any remark or question. Once Faro was satisfied she had none, Deidra was left alone. 

As much as she was indeed still feeling shock, the promise of a shower and a fresh set of clothes outweighed her need to collapse and go catatonic. Deidra wandered over to the door to the fresher which immediately gave way once she was close enough. Inside was a sizable fresher. Even if it hadn’t been aboard a vessel it would have been impressive. 

There was a massive walk in shower comprised of smooth black obsidian tiles with a soaking tub right beside it. She came close and inspected it, seeing that the entire tub appeared to be carved out of one hunk of rock, grinded down and polished. Natural granite lines carved through it’s black stone surface delicately and seamlessly to attest to its overwhelmingly expensive price.

Then across from that was a large mirror that spanned the whole of the sunken wall. As she laid eyes on herself for the first time in several days, she was immediately horrified by her appearance. The visibly soiled dress hung on her loosely, the red ribbon sullied with crusted blood and filth. The bruises and cuts on her face and neck and legs looked stark in contrast to her pale white skin that seemed even paler than usual.

She looked like she had been chewed up and spit out of a sarlacc pit. Suddenly feeling a wave of panic towards her reflection, she kicked off her shoes and tore off her clothes in a hurry, stripping down to nothing as she stepped in the shower, turning the knob to a nearly scalding hot setting. 

The water stung as it hit her lacerated body but the heat felt wonderful. For a moment, all she thought about was the warmth that fed her soul, giving comfort to the hole that had formed in her chest. She let her tears fall silently, mixing with the hot water as she soaped up, scrubbing obsessively over every scratch and bit of dried blood that clung to her skin. 

Her fingers and toes began to prune as she started to wonder just how long she had been in the shower. Although she wanted to stay in forever, she turned off the water and reached out for a delightfully plush and warm towel from the rack aside the shower. It was another welcome comfort in her turbulent circumstances. 

Walking over leaving wet footprints behind her, Deidra strode over to the mirror again and studied herself. Although still battered and bruised, she no longer wore the film of dirt and grime she had accumulated during her stay with the rebels. The dried blood that had crusted to her skin no longer adorned her with its painful reminders. 

She took a measure of relief in being clean, though couldn’t help but feel guilty for letting herself have any burden removed from her at all. Not when her grandmother was dead and gone. Pained by the thought, Deidra averted her eyes from her reflection and walked over to the sleeper where a set of clothes had been placed for her. What lie there made the dress she had taken off look like commoner clothing. 

She toweled off and put on the undergarments that had been left for her. Surprisingly they had fit perfectly, though the lack of substance to the garments made her feel embarrassed to even look at herself in a mirror with them on. They were frustratingly transparent, made of finely woven lace. She didn’t want to guess at how much they must have cost. Suddenly she began to wonder just what warranted her to be treated in such a way. She tried not to think about it too much as she stepped into her dress.

It was made from matching lace, thankfully atop a fully opaque slip that ran the length of her torso down to her upper thigh to conceal what lie beneath. The sleeves fell off her shoulder and the bodice hugged her tightly, though not uncomfortably. The train in the back fell to floor length and the front was cropped just above knee level. Usually she would never wear such revealing clothes but she could hardly protest the items that had been left for her. 

Though she didn’t know how she was supposed to step out of the room when even fully clothed she was still embarrassed to look at her reflection. She was an odd sight, so perfectly dressed and groomed yet so battered and bruised. She felt slightly better when she found a black cloak in the closet with modest looking black flats. It was an ounce of comfort that she could at least try to hide her overly ornate appearance. 

More comfortably covered and ready, she laid back on the sleeper. For the first time since her abduction she was able to close her eyes without an acute sense of dread or fear. The sleeper was so soft, the blankets warm and plush. Only seconds after she hit the pillow, she was sound asleep. 

Then all of a sudden a hand shook her shoulder, pulling her from her much needed rest. Still on edge from everything that had transpired over the last few days, Deidra startled awake with a gasp, heart pounding in her chest with a shot of adrenaline to her veins. 

“I’m so sorry Miss Hardell, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Faro said apologetically. “We’ve entered Coruscant upper orbit. It’s time to board the transport down to the palace, now.”

Deidra took a second before she was freshly embarrassed by her appearance again. Still shaky from being scared into consciousness, she pulled herself out of bed and up on her feet. Obediently she followed the officer down the industrial looking halls of the dreadnaught into the hangar bay where they boarded another transport that would take them to the surface of the city world. 

She could feel the silent eyes of the clone squad and support staff of the vessel stare at her as she went. It only made her feel even more anxious and uneasy. After everything that had happened she felt herself running low on energy that might have helped her cope with more added stress. And the nap she had only made her even feel more fatigued. Her body demanded more rest that she couldn’t give for the time being. 

As they approached the transport, she could see this one was significantly smaller than the one that had taken her away from Onderon. It was primarily a short distance jumper, with several viewports in the passenger hold. Walking onboard the transport she placed herself in the back, as far as she could get from Faro and the guard soldiers that sat up front. 

With a silent look of curiosity Faro gave her a slight smile and nod as the hangar bay opened and the craft took flight over Coruscant. What Deidra saw next took her breath away. She found herself temporarily free of all the heavy darkness that had been weighing her down from the recent traumas she had suffered as she gazed out over the majestic sight of the endless urban sprawl that took over the entire globe. 

Lights, trails of traffic and spires reaching out into the skies. All of it beautiful and bigger than she could have ever imagined. Onderon was a core world, and therefore an old settled world. It had been transformed over the years again and again. But nothing there was quite like this. 

The sight of the cityscape that unfolded before her spoke to the part of her that still dared to dream, that still believed in miracles and good things. It was a part of herself she feared she had lost forever. Maybe it was mostly gone, but in this moment she allowed herself the whimsy of her childish illusions.

As the shuttle came in closer, she looked down into the alleys between buildings, deep dark cravases lit by smaller points of light and lines of traffic. Though all of it paled in comparison as they approached what she could only assume to be the Imperial palace. It was a huge dam like structure with spires rising up from it all over the place, the Imperial insignia hung on a large banner on the face of the building, declaring to all who might not have known to whom the palace, the world, the entire galaxy belonged to. 

Deidra had never considered herself a very patriotic citizen of the empire but she couldn’t help but marvel at the sights of everything around her. This was the center of the entire galaxy, the seat of power for thousands of lightyears in all directions. And she was going to go before the Emperor. It still seemed ludicrous to her now as she was led off the transport and down the long walkway that led to the palace reception hall. 

She still couldn’t fathom what they could possibly want with her. The best she had come up with so far was that perhaps they wanted to make her part of some propaganda campaign, with all of her experience with the rebels and the havoc they caused. She hadn’t thought of any other reason, so by the time she was being led through the doors into the throne room, she had convinced herself it was the truth. 

Deidra walked, thoroughly entranced by every inch of the throne room, and perhaps even more so by the simplicity of it all. The unremarkable angular black throne the Emperor sat on, even the plain black robes he wore. Nothing of it spoke of excess, but in a way it did. 

It was the contrast of the red robed guard that stood about him and how they created a tension in the air. They were combat ready, she could feel it like static on her skin. As she came closer to the throne, to the man that sat on it, she began to feel something else. It was dark, cold, vague yet tangible if only she could place a finger as to what it was. She wrote it off as nerves, but even that nagged at her as her instincts told her that wasn’t it. 

It felt like cold hands on her skin, in her mind, then it vanished leaving only a pervasive foreboding that sank into her bones. Just like she had felt before Yaron had died, before she had been tortured for hours on end. 

The thought of it spurred a chain of metabolic reactions that caused her to go into a panic again, her body feeling as if she were still back in that place. Her animal instincts told her to run, that there was danger, an imminent threat right next to her. Instead she willed herself to remain calm. 

It did little to help anything other than just barely allowing her to stay composed. Under her still exterior her palms began to sweat. Her heart raced and her body trembled against her desperate attempts to calm herself.

Finally they came to a halt just shy of the steps that led to the Emperor’s throne. “Your Majesty, may I present to you, Deidra Hardell of Onderon,” Faro said in a soldier's voice as she took a knee. 

The man chuckled in a way that denoted he found amusement in the circumstance. Then he spoke from under his all enveloping hood, only the lower edge of his face showing beneath it.

“Deidra Hardell, i’m pleased to meet your acquaintance,” the man said in a gentle yet weathered voice. Struggling to keep up with the pace of the moment, Deidra fumbled down to her knees as well in attempt to show proper respect. 

Though the man was not anything like she might have imagined, somehow he inspired even more fear than someone more regal in appearance or stature might have. She glanced up at him, then back down at the floor. The Emperor was a small man, not too tall or substantial at all. But she could feel the raw power roll off of him loudly.

“I-I’m honored to be in your presence your Majesty,” Deidra said quickly, her fear showing through into her words. 

The man chuckled again as he took to standing. “Please, no need for formalities. Rise, Miss Deidra,” he spoke, his words calm yet commanding, though definitely much more than a mere suggestion. 

Deidra fumbled back up to her feet, nearly falling face first as she did. As she stood the Emperor removed his hood. Deidra all but gasped. 

His eyes were an acrid yellow, blood red at the center. She had never seen such a thing, but her fascination didn’t end there. The skin of his face was deformed, wrinkled and folded unnaturally around his features. His color was sickly and pale. It took every bit of self respect and preservation to not ask about the state of his condition. 

She had heard tales of what the Jedi had done to him at the end of the Clone Wars as they had tried to seize control over the republic. They had tried to kill him, perhaps this was the result. She wondered what strange terrible magic could do such a thing to a person though she didn’t truly want to know. 

“I’m glad you have been retrieved in one piece, however battered you may be,” the man said kindly as he glanced over her injuries.

“Th-thank you, your Majesty.” Deidra said, bowing her head politely while Faro still knelt. 

“Officer Faro, you’re dismissed.” He said in a different tone, more formal and strict. 

“Yes, your Majesty.” Faro acquiesced bowing again before turning and leaving with her detail of guards. 

Palpatine turned his attention to Deidra again, studying her carefully. “You have my sincerest apologies and condolences for your late grandmother. It’s a terrible thing, what happened to her.” 

“Thank you, your Majesty,” she said again, feeling more and more like a droid, so limited in what she felt she could and could not say. 

“My dear, you have permission to speak freely. Please don’t be so contrite.” He said casually. 

“Yes, of course, sorry,” she said, wincing at her apology. 

“I imagine you wonder why you've been brought here.” He said in statement as a corner of his mouth turned up in what might have been a smirk. 

“Yes, I do. I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since I was told I was summoned.” She confessed, feeling slightly better though still mostly uneasy. 

“You’ve been brought here because you’re in a unique position, Deidra. You have the ability to help our Empire in ways no one else can. You will be handsomely rewarded for your willing compliance.” He started, treading carefully around things that had yet to be spoken. 

Though from the sound of it, Deidra felt her suspicions confirmed. So she had been brought here to do a propaganda campaign. She would gladly assist. She would tell her story, the tragedy of her entire family, over and over a hundred times if he asked her to. If it would help bring an end to terrorism such as she had been a victim of, she would be willing to do nearly anything. 

“Whatever it is consider it done.” Deidra said firmly, looking up into his scarred eyes with fealty. 

The man looked back at her with an odd expression, one of surprise mixed with doubt. “My dear, you don’t even know what task has been set out for you.” 

Deidra grew slightly confused. “It doesn’t matter. Anything to help get rid of the rebel plague, you can count me in.” She said with finality, the sting of her fallen grandmother fresh on her heart, bolstering her words.

The man smiled a shade darker than before. “Deidra, your DNA is unique. It’s special. That’s the reason you’ve been summoned.” 

Deidra became completely disoriented by his statement. Clearly she had been completely wrong in her assumption, and now began to second guess her adamance in assisting with the cause at hand.

“I don’t understand,” she said, searching his face for an answer. 

“Your genetic makeup is a prime match to that of the prince of the Empire. My right hand, Darth Vader.” He said plainly, his words hanging heavy in the air. 

Deidra felt as if she had been hit over the side of her head hard as the wind was knocked from her lungs and the words from her tongue. Her eyes went wide with dread as the feel of imminent danger returned. 

“I’m sorry?” She asked breathlessly, feeling faint. 

“You’re to mother his children. It’s a great honor. Your offspring will go on to rule the Empire. You will make an unmistakable mark on the galaxy forever. Help wipe out the rebel traitors and terrorists once and for all. All through you.” He said as if it were the most wonderful thing in the universe. 

She stood silent, reeling for a moment. “What? I-I don’t understand.” She said, demanding the truth be something else, anything else. “Surely there must be some mistake, they should check again. There’s nothing special about me.” She said, shaking her head frantically, her eyes emploring. 

“The Empire doesn’t make mistakes, my dear. I’m afraid it’s all quite certain.” He said with a tone of apology. 

“You mean mother children, as in, carry them myself? Can’t I just donate-”

“No. It’s too risky. The science isn’t good enough, not yet. It just won’t do.” He ground out, seemingly low on patience.

“You’re not asking me, are you?” Deidra said, feeling far away from herself once again. 

The man smiled darkly again, his voice turning kind and gentle. “My dear, you are a precious resource. While I am unequivocally in need of your… _services_ so to speak… That doesn’t mean I want to make life difficult for you in the slightest. Quite the opposite, actually. When you cooperate with us, you’ll never want for a single thing. You’ll be royalty of the Empire.”

“I don’t know how I feel about all this,” she said warily, feeling dizzy and nauseous all at the same time. 

“I think you’ll find things much easier when you do as you are told, it’s never pleasant for anyone involved when people are forced into compliance.” He said threateningly, sending a cold chill down her spine. 

A beat later, his voice turned kind again. “My dear,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder as he guided her down the hall to the doors of the throne room. “You’ve had a very long and rough couple of days. I think you’ll find you can think much more clearly with a full night’s rest. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Y-yes, your Majesty.” Deidra stuttered, numb and terror stricken. 

The man smiled. “Good, good.” He turned towards one of the guards at the doors. “Escort Miss Deidra to processing before she arrives at Vader’s tower.” 

“Processing?” Deidra asked, feeling more and more lost with each passing second. 

“It will be done, my Emperor.” The guard said, curtly bowing and holding the door open for Deidra as she wandered through in a daze. 

“Have a good evening Miss Deidra. We’ll be seeing eachother soon.”


	8. Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you go, second chapter for today. I hope you all enjoy and have a happy and safe new year!
> 
> See you soon with another one :)

Darth Vader had sat alone in seclusion, deep in the ruins of the underground Sith temple on Mustafar for hours. He had lost track of time in his efforts, as he willed himself to look deeper, harder into the force. He felt lost, wanted answers. He felt the pull of the light on the residue of his person that still hailed to the name Anakin Skywalker. It made him weak, angry. It made him hate himself for every fiber of the man, the _monster_ he had become. 

But his Master had sent him here to learn something. Perhaps it was to see himself for what he really was, to lay Anakin Skywalker to rest for good. After all, no matter how much he held deep seated regret for his choices, he had reached the point of no return. Years of darkness flooding his soul, filling his life and inflicting such suffering on others. 

On his wife who died in his arms. 

On Obi-Wan. 

But it was too late to take any of it back. That’s what brought him here, to the precipice of an inner metamorphosis. The final step to eradicate any trace of the light that still held sway over him. 

Though it was difficult. Everytime he dove into the force looking for answers, there was just one face. It wrenched his heart, what was left of it anyways. It ripped and tore at his festering soul. 

Beautiful blue eyes, crystal clear and full of goodness, light and love looked at him, into the depths of him. They touched his heart, his mind, the core of his soul. It felt wonderful. He could still remember how his heart sung with anxious excitement. Because when those eyes bore into him, he could feel the acceptance, the appreciation, the elation of pure love. This man loved him for who he was and even thought he was beautiful. 

“Anakin, I love you. I’m sorry i’ve waited so long to tell you. I just didn’t realize until now... I thought I could put it aside, that I ought to have. But now, i’m not so sure. I can’t go another day without letting you know how I really feel. That I love you, more than anyone, _ever._ ” 

Obi-Wan’s words seared through his heart as Anakin found himself at a loss for words. 

_It was too late, why did you have to be so late?_

“It terrifies me, to be honest,” Obi-Wan said in the silence, visibly becoming unsure of his confession. “I don’t know what to do about it, or if there is anything to do. I just needed you to know. I didn’t want to pass on without telling you. With all the violence and war, nothing is certain.” Obi-wan added in a somber tone. 

“Don’t talk like that, you’re not going to die. I’m not going to die.” Anakin countered frantically, suddenly feeling a wave of panic rush over him at the idea. 

Obi-Wan smiled sadly. “You don’t know that. Nothing lasts forever. Everything dies. We have to live life moment to moment. It’s all we truly have.” 

Anakin stepped in close, looking down into the man's sapphire eyes. Obi-Wan was good, so good and pure and everything that was right in the galaxy. 

_Curse the stars, why did you have to be so late?_

He blinked away rogue tears as a few dotted the edges of his eyes. “Anakin, what’s wrong? I didn’t mean to upset you.” Obi-Wan said, his handsome face wroght with concern. 

“I’m not upset,” Anakin spoke softly, leaning in closer, his lips hovering only inches above Obi-Wan’s. 

Softly, gently, Anakin pressed his lips against his Master’s. Anakin’s heart jumped when Obi-Wan let out a small lovely sound as he deepened their kiss, parting his lips as his tongue hesitantly and slowly searched out Anakins. 

He was perfect, the tickle of his beard on his skin, the way his lips were so soft. He tasted sweet. The fragrance of his skin was overwhelming, intoxicating. How could a man so lethal and cunning be so sensitive and beautiful?

Their kiss grew more frantic and desperate in mere seconds. Their tongues roved over each others mouths, searching for something to fill the need for flesh and touch, for love and want. He could feel his Master’s desire for him deep inside, gnawing, begging, demanding. 

But Obi-Wan resisted his wonton urges as he pulled away, placing a hand on Anakin’s chest as he panted for breath, running a hand through his auburn hair that fell back into his eyes. “Anakin, what are we doing?” The man said, shaking his head. “We can’t-”

“We’re living in the moment,” Anakin answered back leaning in close again, needing more, choosing to forget about everything else, just for now.

Obi-Wan looked into his eyes, pleading yet willfully surrendered. “Someone will _see._ ”

Anakin scanned the ship’s hall they were in, seeing a closet only a few meters away from where they stood. His belly filled with nervous excitement as he took his Master’s hand, leading him into the small compartment, closing the latch behind them. 

Not a moment later Anakin pressed Obi-Wan up against the wall in a kiss more desperate and needy than the last. His hands tangled in his soft hair, drawing him closer. He felt a tickle in his chest as his Master wrapped his arms around his torso, clinging to him tightly as he hungirly searched out his mouth. 

As his need for the man grew exponentially, Anakin pulled Obi-Wan down to the floor and straddled his hips, feeling the warm pulsing of excitement and pleasure grow between their thighs. Anakin began to grind on him, feeling his hardened girth collide with his Master’s making both him and the man he sat atop moan into each other’s mouths. 

Obi-Wan’s hands roved over Anakin’s torso feeling his muscled form as Anakin began to do the same, teasing over his Master’s nipples making him break their kiss with a startled gasp. Anakin giggled, planting kisses down the man’s neck as his hands went lower, gently palming over Obi-Wan’s fully erect girth beneath his leggings. 

Obi-Wan let out a beautiful involuntary moan, quiet and tempered though equally turbulent as a rush of emotion washed over through their force bond. Anakin’s pulse quickened in response, drinking in the feel of how Obi-Wan trembled and shivered in response to his touch.

Without a word, Anakin gazed boldly into Obi-Wan’s eyes as he unsheathed his Master’s pulsing length. He reveled in how the man’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating like a spice feind after a hit as he touched him. How his hushed gasps and moans seemed like the sweetest thing he had ever heard in his entire life. 

Then Anakin nestled down between his Master’s thighs as the man was too helplessly paralyzed to do or say anything. Obi-Wan stifled a cry of pleasure as Anakin gently rimmed the tip of his cock with his tongue. Already he tasted better than Anakin could have ever imagined. 

Obi-Wan threw his head back against the wall and gasped as Anakin began to take his length, sucking on him gently as he coaxed the underside of his member with gentle friction from his tongue. Slowly yet steadily, Anakin took his Master inch by inch until he was fully enveloped. His size was quite impressive so it took a certain amount of effort, but Anakin was more than eager to accommodate his Master. 

With every suckle, every time he pumped his Master’s shaft the man twitched and writhed, trying to still himself. Trying to keep quiet against the deafening sensation of Anakin’s mouth on his cock, tormenting him, prodding him, pleasuring him. Anakin could still feel him tremble, made weak by his desires, by what he was doing to the man. 

“ _Oh,_ ” Obi-Wan breathed, his voice brimming with forbidden pleasure. “Anakin, I… You’re going to…” He begged in warning, pushing up on his shoulder to break away. But Anakin could already feel it, his Master was on the edge, holding off. Trying so hard not to cum. But Anakin wanted him to, he wanted to taste him completely, to be everything he needed. He had wanted him for so long, every moment was sheer extacy. 

Obi-Wan was panting, desperately staving off the crest of orgasm when it finally overwhelmed him. Unable to keep entirely silent he let out a strangled moan as he came, spilling hot seed into Anakin’s mouth which he greedily swallowed every bit of. 

“ _Oh force,_ ” Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand through his hair as Anakin pulled off of him, straddling his hips again and resting his head on the man’s shoulder. “I’m afraid to ask how you’re so good at that,” Obi-Wan chuckled breathlessly, pulling Anakin close in another embrace. Anakin nestled his head in the crook of his Master’s neck, inhaling his scent again before licking the salt of his skin from his collarbone to his ear, causing the man to shiver and gasp. 

Anakin looked deeply into Obi-Wan’s eyes for a moment as he drank in the feeling of the man, the way his body felt under his hands, the way he tasted in his mouth. The beautiful blue pure eyes that held nothing but love as he stared into them. 

Overwhelmed by it Anakin crushed his lips against his Master’s again, moaning needily as he pulled down his own leggings. Panting, he broke away from their kiss to wet his hand to lubricate himself enough before taking his Master’s length in hand and pressing it against his entrance.

Anakin gazed again into his Master’s eyes and saw them filled with a certain measure of fear and awe as he could feel the man’s core tremble even more fiercely. His breathing became erratic, his heart racing frantically. 

“Are you okay?” Anakin asked softly, caressing the side of Obi-Wan’s face as he released the man’s member, wrapping his arm around his Masters torso.

Obi-Wan nodded hastily in response as tears welled, unspilt in his jewel blue eyes. Still his chest rose and fell rapidly as his skin grew pale. Anakin could feel the hum of anxious fear between their bodies as he tried to counter it with calming tones of his own.

“Master, you're shaking,” Anakin remarked as Obi-Wan blinked, taking unsteady breaths. “Talk to me, tell me what's wrong,” he insisted gently. 

“I… I've never-” Obi-Wan stammered, struggling to announce what was clearly a more than slightly embarrassing confession. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Anakin asked seriously, looking earnestly into his Master's eyes.

“ _No,_ ” Obi-Wan answered back in a flash, the look in his eyes resolute. “No, don't stop,” he said quieter, nearly a whisper as he looked passionately into Anakin's eyes.

“Are you sure?” Anakin asked again, not wanting to push past Obi-Wan’s consent.

“ _Yes,_ ” Obi-Wan whispered before he pulled Anakin into a soft, gentle kiss. 

Anakin’s heart fluttered in his chest as he settled down, taking Obi-Wan’s length slowly until he had him fully enveloped. His Master made small gasps and sighs as he felt Anakin take all of him. 

Anakin’s cock throbbed as he began to work his Master, Obi-Wan’s fully engorged member creating a wonderful friction against his prostate that pushed him towards his own orgasm. The sensation of being filled by his Master was erotically satisfying in all ways both physical and cerebral. Anakin couldn’t help but make small quiet sounds of his own, moaning and breathing heavy into Obi-Wan’s ear.

Anakin could feel Obi-Wan become firmer, overcome by the powerful sensation of their bodies tangled up, of how wonderful things could feel. How beautiful it was. Anakin’s chest sung as Obi-Wan ran his hands posessively over his back, scratching lightly with his nails over the fabric of his tunic. Gently he began meeting Anakin with small thrusts that Anakin took to grinding against, somehow making the mind blowing pleasure grow even more in intensity. 

As they both were rapt in the moment, the raw physical sensations, the mind numbing pleasure, it was all surreal to Anakin. Finally after all these years, he was living out the fantasy he had dreamed of so many times as a Padawan. There were too many nights he would lie awake, his mind on fire with all the things he wanted Obi-Wan to do to him, all the ways the man might take him. 

It would be just like this, riding his Master who fit inside of him so perfectly and pleasurably, hearing the man moan and whisper his name in a voice saturated with delicious orgasmic tones. Just like this, as Obi-Wan took hold of his hips and moved him where he wanted him, pushing inside of him at a quickening tempo. His face, his beautiful face contorted by pleasure, by the orgasm building between his thighs. The sound of his voice as he crested, losing control as pleasure racked his body.

Anakin relished it, the feel of hot sticky seed inside of him spilled by the perfect man he was making love to. The only person he ever truly loved. The one who was thrusting and pulsating inside of him, pushing him towards his own orgasm as he pumped his shaft, coaxing him so gently. 

“ _Obi-Wan,_ ” Anakin breathed in a moan as he came as his body contracted around his Master’s spent cock. Slick liquid covered Obi-Wan’s hand as he milked him of his seed, taking advantage of the generous lubrication to tease and stroke him torturously sending tingling waves of aftershock through his body. His body that had become covered in a sheen of sweat from working his Master to completion. 

Anakin collapsed against his Master, his head falling on the man’s shoulder with delightful exhaustion. Wiping off his hand gingerly as the man always hated a mess, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin giving a sated sigh. 

“Oh Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, pulling a hand through his long curly hair, massaging his scalp. Anakin melted, nestling closer in the crook of the man’s neck. “You’re _wonderful,_ ” he said breathlessly. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” 

Anakin wanted to tell him how long he had been waiting for this, how badly he wanted him, how amazing he was and how much he loved him. Because he loved him. He loved him too much. It was wrong, it was all wrong. 

_Why did you have to be so late?_

Suddenly Anakin felt a bolt of pain in his chest, a lance of guilt that made him gasp, involuntary tears pouring out of his eyes as he bit out a sob. It was so unfair, why did it have to be like this? He could never have Obi-Wan. It was cruel. Especially after tasting him, feeling him, everything they had just done. 

He could never take it back. He didn’t want to. But it hurt, it hurt so much. In more ways than one their love was forbidden. It was a wound on his heart that would torture him till the end of time. 

Anakin let out another sob. “Anakin, what’s wrong?” Obi-Wan said, trying to bring Anakin to face him without success as the man retreated further into the crook of his neck. 

How could he speak? How could he tell him what was eating him alive? Obi-Wan deserved better. Padme did, too. He had wronged them both. 

“I-I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin cried out, gut wrenching around his mistakes that felt like knife wounds to his soul. 

“Anakin, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Obi-Wan insisted, rubbing soothing circles on his back in an attempt to console him. 

“I’m sorry, I feel horrible,” Anakin said, trying in futility to still his sobbing. 

“Oh Anakin, there’s no reason for you to feel that way. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Obi-Wan insisted, his fingers still massaging his scalp. “Tell me, what is all this about?”

“I’ve done a terrible thing.” Anakin said as he heaved for breath, his sobbing subsiding for now as his tears still cascaded down his face into his Master’s tunic. 

“What are you talking about? You were perfect, Anakin. Forming attachments, making love, they might be forbidden to Jedi but that hardly makes them terrible things.” Obi-Wan assured him. 

“I just got so caught up in the moment,” Anakin said, pulling back from Obi-Wan and shifting to sit beside him as he pulled his leggings back on in an anxious hurry.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, suddenly understanding as he also clothed himself. Anakin could feel the embarrassment in his voice.

“I took advantage of you. I’m so sorry. I thought I still felt the same, but I don’t think I do.” Anakin fumbled through an explanation. If only he could tell his Master how he really felt. Instead he had to spin up a lie, one that hurt his heart to employ. 

Obi-Wan sat in silence, staring forward into nothing as he took a deep breath, gaining his bearings on the situation. 

“I’m so sorry Master-”

“Anakin, please, it’s alright. With things like this… when passion is involved, things can become confusing.” Obi-Wan said as much to himself as to Anakin as he put a hand to his face in bewilderment. 

“I never meant to take advantage-”

“Anakin, I already told you, it’s alright. I don’t think any less of you for it,” Obi-Wan said, his pained jewel blue eyes twinkling in the low light. “If anything I should be sorry for causing such confusion. We’ve been through so much over the last few weeks with the whole Zygerrian incident. Emotions have been running high.”

“I just don’t want this to change anything. You’re my Master whether I’m a Padawan or not, nothing’s ever going to change that. I care about you, Obi-Wan.” Anakin said, his heart tearing in half as another sob lingered in his chest.

_I love you._

“Anakin, nothing is going to change. I care about you, too. If you say you don’t feel the same, I can respect that. We just continue on as we always have. Just because of this, doesn’t mean I expect anything more from you.” Obi-Wan said in his Jedi manner. Not at all the man he had made love to only moments earlier, the one that had been a moaning mess of physical sensation and desire, of passion and pleasure. 

He could hear how his master hid behind his practiced demeanor, how the man must have been broken inside. Though he would never show it. Obi-Wan didn’t like to be on the receiving end of pity, and most certainly not in a situation as sensitive as this. It broke Anakin’s heart to think about. 

Anakin wallowed in his guilt for the better part of the day. Then that day turned into a week, month, year. The union they had shared turned so bitter in his heart, distracting him. Every time he kissed Padme, all he thought of was that perfect moment when he tasted his Master’s lips for the first time. The soft sounds the man made haunted him every time he made love to her. Slowly over time, that wretched moment tainted their marriage. It corrupted the promise he made to her, to be completely devoted.

He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Not even when she told him she was pregnant with his child. His thoughts every time he thought of who his heart truly belonged to, were with Obi-Wan. There was a time when he loved the man, idolized him. He wanted him more than anything else. But Obi-Wan had been too late, given him a taste of what he had always wanted. What might have at one time been the salve his spirit needed to become whole, turned to a bitter acid that accused him every time he thought of him. The man he loved. The man he couldn’t have. 

The man that he came to resent. 

Obi-Wan had never listened when Anakin tried to tell him about the visions of his mother dying. He had tried hard not to hold it against him when she died in his arms as a result. When visions came to him of his wife’s death, he knew he couldn’t turn to Obi-Wan. How could he? He had to save her on his own. Save her and their child. He wouldn’t allow his feelings for Obi-Wan to get in the way. He was her husband, it was his duty to keep her safe. He would do anything to protect her.

So he did terrible, terrible things. Anakin gave over his soul to the monster Darth Vader, who corrupted and consumed every bit of good or light that had ever existed inside his heart. Because in exchange for his soul, Padme would live. His child would life. 

Only they didn’t. Obi-Wan had turned her against him, tried to thwart everything he tried to do to save her. Because Obi-Wan still felt for him, was jealous. He knew Padme would die, his child would die. The man he loved so much, the one he had tried so hard to forget about had ruined everything.

Suddenly, all of Obi-Wan’s misdeeds came to light. Shmi had died because of him. He had lost his arm because of him. Now his wife and child lie dead with Obi-Wan to blame. Not only had he brought her there to die, but he corrupted the love they shared in more ways than one. He poisoned their final days together with the memory of what should have never been. He tainted the way Padme saw him. She died knowing what Anakin knew as well. 

He had become a monster. 

But his only true missgiving was that he had only ever wanted one pure, true thing. Just one in the galaxy. At a time he had hoped it would be Obi-Wan, but he was too late. He found hope in Padme, that maybe they could find happiness. And they did have it for a short time. 

And then they didn’t. All the regret and the longing, the forbidden desires ate Anakin up inside. He was a shell of the man he was, long before Darth Vader took what was left of him. 

Because Anakin was weak, a slave to his desires and emotions, caught between his heart and his obligations. He let it ruin himself, his life, everything he held dear.

And Vader was there to pick up the pieces, pull his strength together, move on past his own pain. That didn’t mean he had forgotten, that he didn’t feel the pull of the sentimental man he had once been. He did. Only instead of being ruined by all his regrets, all the ways people had hurt him, he was made stronger by them. He had to be. 

All of the pain, it was a tool. He could wield it to gain power, so that he would never have to suffer the same ways ever again. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes by letting others hold anything over him. Certainly not love. He didn’t think he could ever love again. Anakin’s Master held his heart still, had never given it back. But that was alright because Vader didn’t need a heart. He didn’t need to love. He was better for his lack of it. He was stronger that way. 

But because Anakin still loved him, Vader was sure to make him suffer. For everything, all of his weaknesses, all of his shortcomings and regrets, for everything that he would never be, Obi-Wan would suffer. For all of the ways he could be blamed for the terrible things that had happened in Anakin’s life, he would be made to suffer. For how blind Anakin had been as a starry eyed child, idolizing him for so long, he would be made to suffer. 

It made Anakin angry and wrathful, everything Darth Vader needed to become more powerful. Anakin’s rage was the secret to the Dark Lord’s prowess, his unmatched skill and strength. Anakin hated himself for being weaker than Darth Vader. It was another well of dark energy that fueled him. Vader let himself seethe in it, let himself become one with the agony. 

Yes, he saw now. He understood what his Master had sent him here to find. The pieces of Anakin Skywalker served a purpose, though weak and fragile they may have been. They served the Dark Lord well. For a moment he might have felt thankful for those bits of him that gave him power. 

Anakin Skywalker had been a man who suffered greatly, who loved others too much. It destroyed him. But Darth Vader needed him broken, shattered as he was. There was no greater tool. No greater gift. 

Yes, even weak things served a purpose. 

In the midst of his meditation, the Dark Lord’s com-link chirped out. “My Master,” Vader answered solemnly in monotone. 

“Apprentice. I trust you’ve come upon useful insights in your meditation?” Sidious croaked knowingly, his gravelly voice made more so by the garbled transmission. 

“Yes, Master. It has been quite, enlightening.” Vader answered, his brows pursed in thought. 

“Good. The time has come for you to return to your tower, Lord Vader. Your match, Lady Deidra, awaits you there.” Sidious followed up, his words casual as he expected no resistance from his apprentice. 

And there was none. “It will be done, my Master.”


	9. Betrothed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning, this chapter contains content that can be considered disturbing, relating to suicide, suicidal thoughts and ideation. If you are feeling suicidal, please reach out and seek professional help. If you feel you are in danger of harming yourself, call 911, 999, or your local emergency number*  
> USA NATIONAL SUICIDE HOTLINE- 1-800-273-8255  
> UK SAMARITANS 116-123

It was a slow march from the Imperial throne room to the transport that awaited her on the platform outside. Slow, but entirely too fast. Just like the events that had uprooted her entire life ever since that wonderful night that would mark the end of her normal life. The night that had seemed too good to be true. Where she had laughed and drank with a seemingly kind stranger, the one that would rip her from everything she had ever known. The one who would pull her to the depths of despair where she would lose everything. 

Everyone. 

In a haze made up of exhaustion and disbelief, Deidra sat in the transport and watched as the towers and spires began to move past with increasing speed. Coruscant. The urban sprawl of a city world that seemed wonderful, beautiful even, as they had approached it. Now she only saw a prison comprised of duracrete and neon lights. 

A prison she was destined for from birth it would seem. But it was an empty existence. She didn’t care about any of it. No amount of status or wealth would bring back her grandmother, or the beloved family she had lost in that awful bombing. Even if it was the rebels who had been responsible, giving her life over to the Empire wasn’t going to bring them back. When she had gone in to meet the Emperor, she had thought herself ready to give anything to fight against the rebels. Only she hadn’t thought her own life the price.

She never dreamed her life could be measured to be sold or traded, or given in sacrifice. Her life was hers alone. It wasn’t to be bartered with or usurped. But her life wasn’t hers any more. And even if it was, what good was it? She had nothing left to give, nothing left to care about. 

Her mind played the last few days like a holotape, over and over. If only she could go back and do something differently. Would it have even changed a thing? The makeup of her cells would have remained the same, within them being the writ of her betrothal to the Prince of the Empire, Darth Vader. 

All of those nights she had dreamed of something greater, of tall city spires and magnificent ball gowns. Of entertaining company and lavish dinners, along with all the success she could find for herself. Now it all felt like a curse. She would trade it all for just one more minute with her grandmother. 

But time was not something that could be bargained with or persuaded, no matter how much one wished it were so. And time kept on moving forwards, as did the subject of her fear and dread. The iminent meeting with the ever feared Darth Vader.

Her purpose to him made her skin crawl with disgust. What sort of man would he be to have her plucked from her own home in the way that she was? Certainly a heartless and ruthless one at that. And the one she was to mother children for. Her mind didn’t comprehend the reality of it. 

But time kept pushing forwards, through the difficult and easier times alike. Just like now, as Faro pulled and prodded her to stand and walk out of the transport, into a private clinic. Her mind was willfully empty as she was guided to sit on an examination table to be studied and scanned. All of the proceedings felt as if they were very far away. There was a veil between herself and the world, and she very much preferred it that way. 

“Well she’s certainly healthy, although it would seem our lady has endured quite the ordeal over the last few days.” The doctor concluded, speaking mostly to Faro since she had proven quite unresponsive. Though the matter of her fugue like state was not a topic of conversation. “It’s safe to say the only damage is superficial. Scrapes and bruises, maybe a little dehydration but no internal injuries.” 

“Perhaps there’s something that could be given to help her mental state?” Faro suggested, her words treading lightly as to not to anger the subject of question. The doctor looked back to Deidra who blinked slowly and without interest back at him. “Clearly she’s suffering greatly from the stresses of her situation.” Faro added insistently. 

Deidra smiled slightly. It was an odd prospect that anything could truly help her state of mind. Her world had been turned upside down and crushed all within the same week. It was impossible to cure any of it with some sort of pill or drug. And Faro thought she might be helped. The woman meant well but was clearly delusional, more so than Deidra would ever be. 

“I suppose I could give her something for the emotional discomfort. Can’t say how much it will truly help, though.” The doctor said with a measure of skepticism and doubt. 

The man turned to rummage through a cabinet of vials and syringes before he came upon the one he was looking for. “This will help for the next few hours, after that it can be administered orally, up to twice a day as needed. Though it should be used sparingly.” The man said with caution as he drew up a viscous looking liquid into a syringe. 

The liquid burned terribly as he jabbed the needle into her arm, pushing it far too quickly into her tissue for comfort. Deidra inhaled sharply at the stimulus as the pain of it slowly waned. 

The doctor and Faro said a few parting words before she was being pulled yet again in the direction of their transport. She could feel the effects of the drug already taking hold over her senses. There was a chemical haze that settled in between her and everything else, taking place of the veil she had held there for comfort. Only the haze made everything feel okay, even if she knew it wasn’t. 

This time she gazed out the viewport as they took flight with a sense of manufactured acceptance. It was bitter and full of agony, mixed with a warmth that flooded her body with reassurance. It was a clashing of heartache and serenity that put her in an odd state of mind. She imagined herself holding a knife to her wrists with an empty smile on her lips, slicing through her delicate flesh, letting this terrible nightmare be over for good. 

Suddenly it felt like a wonderful idea. She might hear the sound of her father’s voice again, feel her mother’s embrace. The struggle could be over. 

“Feeling better already?” Faro asked, pleased to see Deidara smiling. 

“I guess you could say that.” Deidra answered back as a tall spire began to grow larger, more massive as they came towards it. As much as the drugs had endowed her with a false sense of peace, she could feel waves of agony emanate from the structure in the distance. She almost thought she could hear words, a cry for help, before it was silenced by an enveloping darkness. A black hole that swallowed all, sparing nothing. 

It was an ominous, terrible place. Even through the sweet haze she could feel the fear it instilled. As they landed and walked towards the dark lair, Deidra examined the carved markings in the stone walls. Both on the exterior and the passage leading inside were what looked like ancient glyphs. As she studied them, it almost seemed that they glowed ever so faintly. 

But it could have easily been the drugs manifesting as well. That made the most sense to her in the moment. As Faro led her to the main hall, two servants approached. They were wearing modest black gowns and cloaks. Their hair was tied back strictly and their gaze was cast low.

“This is Lady Deidra. I trust you’ll take it from here,” Faro said expectantly. 

The two women bowed deeply as they made acquaintance. “Lady Deidra,” one of the stewardesses said in awe. 

“It’s an honor to have you, my Lady.” The other echoed in a breathless tone. 

Deidra turned towards Faro with a desperate question in her eyes muted by the drugs that settled in over her. “You’re leaving,” she said with a panic gripping her core, as much as it could through the inebriation. 

“Yes my dear, i’m sorry. I have orders elsewhere, now. But you will be taken well care of, you have my word.” Faro said sadly with a reverent tone as she gave a token salute. 

Somehow it only made her feel worse, even more lost. “Oh,” Deidra said quietly, not wanting to appear childish. She couldn’t give in to the swell of tears that choked her, she forced them into submission. “Goodbye, then.” She said, unsure. 

Faro gave a curt bow before turning to leave. Somehow the end of a chapter premised in the woman’s exit. The last shred of any sense of familiarity was leaving her alone in a sea of what remained largely unknown, and frustratingly frightening. She hated feeling so lost and vulnerable. 

Deidra had always lived knowing her place, where she stood in relation to others. She knew her grandmother and the patrons that depended on her to provide certain measures of relief and comfort in the form of herbal concoctions; a poultice or tea. Everything about that life seemed distant and foreign now, yet so painfully near.

“If you’ll follow us my Lady, we’ll prepare you for the Master.” One woman said in that same empty tone that seemed to be the only one they knew to employ. 

Somehow that vacant tone made their words that much more ominous. _The Master._

Deidra would have no Master, no one to Lord over her. She would have never stood for it before. Her grandmother would turn over in her grave if she knew the subservience that she was supposed to be consigned to. Just the thought of it made her blood boil, and freeze over all at the same time. She was furious yet terrified. 

Terrified of the unknown. And so much remained so. As the two women guided her up the spiral staircase that seemed to ascend and descend in both directions infinitely, they finally came to a wing that seemed to be fashioned into a large living quarters. 

“Here’s where you’ll be staying,” one of the servants said in monotone. 

The floor before them was swept out in one large grand hall, a few doors at the edges that led off into separate rooms. It was a large suite, something quite royal and stark in trimmings and decor. It unfurled in red velvet lounge chaises with simple and angular tables and chairs, with equally modern lighting fixtures that were dotted throughout the place. The ceilings were impossibly tall, leaving a sense of emptiness that would never feel quite right.

The elaborate yet stern furnishings, pillars and marble floors became overwhelming. Deidra felt she had stepped into a palace. And essentially, she had. All of it had her feeling even more fatigued and she thought herself ready for a long nap. Though without so much as a pause, the maidens continued to herd her over towards the doors at the far end of the grand hall. 

“Which room is mine?” She asked through her drug tinged haze. Perhaps that was what had her feeling so exhausted. 

“Everything you see is yours, my Lady.” One stewardess replied, her tone showing surprise at the question. “The Master had this floor prepared in expectancy of your arrival.” 

“Oh,” Deidra replied, equally caught off guard. She hadn’t quite expected so much. Though for someone in such service to the Empire, perhaps she should have expected more. Though for all that had been taken from her, no amount of luxury could replace what her heart yearned for. 

All the same, such a dwelling didn’t make her any less of a slave to the Empire. It hardly made up for what they still wanted to take from her; what they already had taken. 

The two women reached the end of the large hall, opening one of the tall doors that led into what seemed like a spa room. At the center was a large soaking tub, around it were shelves and vanities all clean and polished. Deidra looked back at herself in the many reflections of her face that stared back at her from the numerous mirrors. 

Inside herself she wanted to scream, and she did feel the air around her hum with distress that cried out from the depths of her soul. In response she thought she might have felt the reassurance of a kindred spirit, the presence of a comfort. But it was just as fleeting as it was unexpected.

Just beyond, deeper into the space were racks of clothes and accessories, hats, gloves, jewls and fine garments adorned with exotic embroidery and fashions that she had only ever seen on the holonet, if at all. Clustered between the racks were plush upholstered sofas and chairs to lounge on. All of it was foreign, mementos of a life she had never lived. 

One of the women moved to the soaking tub at the center of the room, turning it on and preparing a bath. The other motioned for Deidra to sit on a bench in front of one of the vanities while she rummaged for products. 

The next hour went by while the two stewardesses fussed and picked over every aspect of Deidra’s appearance and hygiene. She had been cleaned and groomed entirely in ways she hadn’t been completely comfortable in others doing for her. Her gown had been chosen against her many adamant protests. It along with most other clothes in her bestowed collection, was entirely too revealing for her liking and comprised of colors that were darker than she usually wore. The layers of black and dark crimson drowned her out, her flesh and hair stark against the backdrop of the inky colors.

The two women chattered and whispered between themselves anxiously hushed comments and remarks. Their mannerisms spoke tales of fear and caution, things to be avoided. As they ushered Deidra out into the parlor area of the floor that had been designated for her alone, they took a tense tone. It wasn’t something they said, it was more a matter of things they hadn’t said. It was in the way even their quiet gossiping had stilled to a halt as their tasks with her had come to an end. 

“Make yourself at home and relax, mylady.” One of the women said in an uncomfortable nearly forced voice. 

“The Master will be up to meet you shortly.” 

…….

Coming home to the tower wasn’t like coming home at all. In all honesty Vader hated the gift that had been bestowed to him by his Master. He hated any place of stillness, anything that would make him stay and wait. 

He stored many artifacts that he had collected over the years in his tower, had designed bits here and there to make it more his own. And even still, he never felt at home within the dark shadowed walls. It didn’t matter how many spoils of conquest and war he would stash among his many vacant floors of soldiers, servants and maids who milled about, keeping the place clean and up to standard in the chance he might grace the halls with his presence. 

He hated it with a passion, every reminder of past times, every slice of history better left forgotten. Every piece of it was fuel, something to be taken and transmuted into strength; power. His former Master only being one of many things he kept as memento. As something to hold over the weaker Anakin Skywalker who would cry and beg at times, for mercy to be shown. 

Darth Vader didn’t know mercy. He didn’t know restraint, or kindness, or love. The man was barely a man at all, more a beast. A otherworldly demon that took what it wanted when it willed it. A force beyond comprehension. A singularity in the universe; convergence of the living force. An all consuming darkness, a never ending nightmare. 

As Vader’s shuttle came closer to the landing pad of his tower, he could feel the familiar signatures greet him as they always did when he came home. The restless anxiety of his orderlies was rife in the air, more pungent than the usual background hum of fear he was used to feeling here. 

The Emperor had given commands, his servants would know the grave importance of the woman they had in their care. The pressure to give service without fault would be at an all time high. Vader appreciated the fear his underlings felt; he ought to be feared. It showed that they knew their place, and knew what might be the result of disobeying or displeasing their Master. 

Vader’s fists clenched at his sides as his jaw tensed. It wouldn’t be long until he no longer had a Master. Not long before Sidious’s reign would be at an end. It felt right that those who called Vader Master, would feel terror. For all the things that the Sith Lord detested, it was the fear of his own Master. Was it fear, or was it anger? Perhaps a mixture of both. He hated how the man thought he held Vader’s life, his destiny in his old, wretched hands. 

But for now, he would let his Master think it so. He would obey, bend to his wishes. Vader wasn’t below seeing the benefit of learning what he could from the man. Sidious possessed much wisdom that he still had yet to glean. Vader would use him until he no longer served a purpose. He would bow to him until he killed him. He would fear him until he no longer drew breath. 

He would use the hatred of his own fear as another springboard, taking him to new levels of power. None would be wasted. 

Vader’s shuttle had landed. His boots met the duracrete bricks below in quick and decisive strides. He could feel the misery of the one he once called Master, toiling away in the depths below. He could sense a new signature, one quite bright and pervasive. There was a quality of pain, suffering, shades of hate and despair. Had he not been paying better attention, he might have misplaced it under the name Kenobi. 

But this was different, less sullied. The pain was fresh, new. A bleeding heart, sudden trauma. Confusion. Vader drew on the sensation, enticed by it. Anakin yearned to reach out, to help, to heal. The weakling Jedi always did have a tender heart for others in pain. This soul had a sense of bondage, a different kind of slavery. It made Anakin writhe and rip at the binds that held his soul in place, deep in the dark black pit of the abyss that made up a Sith Lord. 

But the melody of suffering was a sweet hymn to Vader. It filled the chasm where his heart might have been with a sense of contentment. Even Anakin felt a fellowship in the shared sense of pain, the sense of loss. It was one note that aligned Anakin with his dark captor, Darth Vader. Though while the Dark One felt gratified, Anakin mourned. Both emotions were felt within the grips of insipid silence, a meditative like state. 

But Vader presse onwards, trailing up the spiral staircase towards the beacon of melancholy that would be his betrothed. As he climbed he felt a shift in her emotions, a changing from heartache to resolve. A sense of emptiness, defeat, resignation crept over the signature. It dampened, warped and distorted it. The sheer intensity of her pain swept over the entire tower, pushing onto everyone close enough to be affected. Like the corona of a star on the edge of supernova her aura lingered on the edge of collapse. 

Vader quickened his pace as he climbed the stairs, skipping many steps in between strides as he projected himself forward with the slightest touch of force. An urgency filled the air, a lively energy thrumming in the space between his ribs. The air was charged with static, such as it was before someone’s light would be extinguished.

Darth Vader wasn’t concerned, not in the slightest. The Sith Lord never felt such emotions. So he didn’t know what it was that tickled in his chest, that made his heart beat ever so slightly faster. But if he did have such capacities to feel on behalf of another, he might have felt a sense of panic. The emerging sense of alarm might have compelled him to break out into a sprint, rushing to the floor where the one meant for him would be in wait. 

He might have felt something as he saw an empty bottle of pills cast to the ground, near the feet of a woman who stood on the precipice of her veranda. A glass emptied of the liquor that it had held only a few moments ago loosely held in her hand. How long ago? He couldn’t guess. Long enough for the effects to be kicking in. 

The woman’s slight form, clad in scant luxurious garments, sagged against the pillar of the balcony as her feet stood planted, toes gripping the ledge. The slightest breeze might have pulled her down, hurtling with fatal speed to the lowest levels of the city planet. She wavered, fighting the heavy tranquilizers she had ingested coupled with the strong drink. 

The moment seemed to unravel in slow motion as Vader had crested the staircase, running with full might as he saw the scene unfold before him. The woman turned to look at him as he came closer. Her face was pale, painted perfectly with full red lips and dark swooping liner over her eyes accentuating the delicate shape they took on her face. Her lashes clumped with stinging tears as they mixed with the black ink of her mascara forming small rivers of washed out gray cascading down her cheeks. 

She was beautiful, painted like a doll. But it was as if someone painted her wrong; sad. If only someone could wipe the tear stained makeup from her face, and paint a smile with happier eyes instead. 

But she wasn’t happy. As her eyes fell on Vader’s approaching form a pang of anguish sparked in her eyes. Her chest was tight, holding onto a gasping breath as she teetered on the edge of holding on and letting go before the drugs that quickly dissolved into her veins decided for her.

He had nearly reached her before she closed her eyes, a delicate expression of peace and acceptance forming on her features. She let go, her toes unclenching from their grip on the stone ledge as she shoved off of the pillar, pushing herself into the open air like a bird about to take flight. Her gown caught the breeze around her, billowing and taking to the wind like a banner declaring its message to the skies.

Vader reached out his hand, taking hold of her gently with tendrils of force as he pulled her back into the safety of the tower. His heart drummed in his chest as he set her down with care. As her feet touched the ground and he released his hold on her, she promptly collapsed on the stone floor below. 

Kneeling by her side Vader turned her over, seeing the woman quickly grow despondent. Her porcelain skin began to turn shades of pale blue as the drugs began to take hold. He took her up in his arms and carried her with haste down to the med wing of the tower. Vader had always been sure to keep qualified, competent doctors on staff. Now was the time their mettle would be tested.

But already there had clearly been a failure. A critical lapse of judgement. As the life force of the woman he held in his arms continued to steadily decline, his pace hastened in equal measure. As the woman in his arms began to die, Vader’s accelerated pulse became fueled with rage. 

He entered the med wing with a swath of staff immediately rushing to his aid. None of it was enough to cover their gross oversight. Vader steadily marched to a med sleeper, laying his betrothed down delicately on it’s white sheeted surface. 

His aura was seething, his chest flaming with anger for such flippant negligence. The staff of doctors and nurses continued to follow him, ready at any moment to give aid as suggested. Already one nurse began to shakily take the dying woman’s vitals, immediately barking orders to another one of the staff for a med hypo to help stabilize her. Two of the head doctors stood before Vader, one male and female. 

They had first started by trying to inquire and ask about the woman’s condition and soon realized Vader was in no talking mood at all. Instead he stared them down with a deathly glare. One of the two began grasping at his throat, unable to draw breath. All transpired in silence as the rest of the staff began converging over the woman’s body in borderline panic, trying desperately to save the young woman’s life. 

As the doctor in Vader’s invisible grip began to tremor and convulse with lack of oxygen, the entire staff knew the woman’s survival or death meant the same for all of them, as well. Such was the understanding of those working under Darth Vader. Positions in his command were always available for a reason. The mortality rates of those who served him were high. The cost of their deaths? Incompetency. Or perhaps Lord Vader was having an off day. 

Today there were to be many fatalities, whether or not the woman survived. The doctor who now fell to the floor, his skin discolored from asphyxiation, was only the first. “If the girl dies, the rest of you do as well.” Vader declared to the room of med staff, staring into the surviving doctors eyes. 

Then he stepped closer, mere inches away from the female doctor’s face. He could smell her fear, feel the accentuated terror he was pushing onto her. “Don’t make me regret killing him instead of you.” Vader said calmly with undercurrents of icy regard. 

“Y-yes Lord Vader. We will not fail you.” The doctor said with loyalty, giving a salute before she rushed off to advise the rest of the staff. 

“When she wakes, notify me immediately.” Vader said, before turning on his heel to leave. He had business to attend to. 

“Yes my Lord. It will be done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hopefully I'll be posting more regularly, but i'm back in school now so it's a bit busier than usual. All the same I'm not going to abandon the stories i'm working on, I promise! 
> 
> See you in the next chapter!


	10. Stranger

Vader was caught in a whirlwind of rage as he stormed through the tower, killing at least two or three guards out of spite as he made his way out to the landing pad. The unthinkable negligence in Deidra’s care was staggering. The very woman who would mother his own child, disregarded as unimportant. 

It was an oversight. A failure. One he wasn’t willing to accept. The origin of it all began at the highest levels of power. Ultimately, Vader reasoned, it was his Master’s fault. Finally reaching the landing pad the Dark Lord mounted one of the speeder bikes parked out front, and took off towards the Imperial Palace. 

He bobbed and weaved his way through the thick Coruscant traffic paying no mind to any laws or speed limits as he did. It was only a short jaunt before he arrived at the palace. Just as always, his presence was uncontested whether he had been expected or not. 

Night had already fallen by the time he had left his tower, and now his Master would be retiring to his quarters. Vader made a beeline to where he felt the man’s presence. He sensed that Sidious could feel his presence in return. His Master was not happy for the intrusion. 

At times, causing such a bother to his Master would instill a sense of fear, a brief thought of repercussions to his actions and words. Though many of those times he still felt justified in his belligerence. This time Vader doubted the man could deny fault in the way his betrothed had been handled. He demanded something in return, even if only recognition alone. 

Vader resolved to but his foot down. He would bend to the man’s will, and more often than not that was the case. But he would not have his own reputation trampled on. For all the service he had ever given to the Empire, to the Emperor-- his own Master, he expected more. Mistreating the one who had been brought for him, was the same as mistreating his own person. It was an insult he was not willing to take silently. 

Approaching the grand doors to his Master’s chambers, he parted them as he strode through, his fists clenched with burning rage. The moment he entered he was taken slightly by surprise to see a woman there, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat curled up on one of the plush velvet loungers in the sitting area of his Master’s bedroom. She had bright red, long curly hair and freckles that adorned every inch of her skin. The dark black of her simple sleep clothes looked strange on her, not suiting her wild hazel eyes or untamed shock of hair. 

“Apprentice,” Sidious regarded him with distaste in his voice as he leisurely approached Vader, clothed in nothing but loosely fitted trousers. For him they served as sleep clothes, though the fabric of them had been woven from the finest silk in the galaxy. Their cost would have been enough to feed a family of five for six standard months. Such expenditures were a commonality for the Emperor. 

“What is it that brings you to disturb me at this hour?” He asked in a curt demanding tone, one that was overwritten with his executive charm. Vader could see his Master’s impatience in the way his melted features scowled ever so slightly. His voice only hinted at the man that lie beneath.

But Vader knew what his voice meant. He wasn’t in the mood to cater to anyone’s foolishness. He certainly wasn’t about to pander to anyone’s misplaced complaints. It was very well, Vader thought. He was more than justified in his discontent. 

The red headed woman must have known what his voice implied as well. She cringed, visibly flinching as his Master spoke in soft, snarling words. Vader paid her no mind. “You know what brings me, Master.” Vader insisted, his rage seething just below his skin. 

“Was Lady Deidra not to your liking, Lord Vader?” Sidious cooed tauntingly. 

“She was nearly dead by the time I found her. Had I arrived a few moments later, she would have been lost.” Vader declared darkly, an edge of something unidentifiable in his voice. It was something he couldn’t explain or relate to. Was it concern? For whatever it may have been, all he felt was the simmering violence that wanted to be unleashed on someone in the name of vengeance. It wouldn’t right the error, but it would soothe him for a moment, like a soft cooling breeze against sunscorched skin. 

“I see.” Sidious said pensively. “And you, Lord Vader. Ever the sentimental one, aren’t you.” His master declared as he crept closer, pointing an accusing finger at him, damning him. 

“Sentiment has nothing to do with it,” Vader snarled. “Mistreating her is disrespect to me. I won’t have it.” 

“And who mistreated her, Lord Vader? Did someone try to kill her? Poison her?” Sidious said in a wretched knowing voice. 

Vader’s lip curled as his fists clenched, reflexively pooling force around himself to inflict on others. “No.” He ground out, the scarlet in his eyes glowing brightly. 

“No.” Sidious echoed. “She tried to take her own life.” He declared, as if it meant something. As if how it happened mattered. 

“Yes. She did. But that’s hardly the point.” Vader persisted. “The pills and drink were provided for her against anyone’s better judgement. It was careless. Unacceptable.” Vader said, feeling his vocal chords taut in his throat, straining with what could have been emotion. 

Emotion. What was there, other than anger? Rage? Determination? 

“Perhaps.” Sidious croaked contemplatively before his wicked yellow eyes snapped up to stare through his apprentice. “Yet I sense something much more troubling. Something is stirring inside you Lord Vader.” He said, measuring him in his fixed glare. “Conflict. _Weakness._ ” 

“The only thing stirring is my rage at the obvious negligence in Deidra’s care. If the woman who is to bear my own children is not to be respected and properly cared for, what does that say about the Lord to whom she belongs?” Vader shouted. The red headed woman on the lounger startled at the sudden vehemence. 

“I won’t be the brunt of someone’s bad joke, Master.” Vader said low, countering his burst of aggression with quieter words. 

Sidious still locked his eyes on him unrelentingly, his expression changing very little. “There may be validity to your quarrel.” He said, recanting only slightly. “You have my, deepest regrets for the lapse in her care.” He paused, his eyes darkening and becoming hardened. “It is to be kept in mind that she had suffered greatly before she came to us. Not all of her problems can be pawned off on others.” Sidious said in a sharp voice. 

Vader offered up a glance of disdain in response to his Master’s reprimand. Sidious had given his version of an apology, and it was all he was going to recieve. “Yes, Master.” Vader said dryly. 

“Now leave at once. I have other pressing matters to attend to.” Sidious said tellingly. The girl wrapped herself tighter in her robes, slinking down into the lounger as her eyes became willfully vacant hiding any fear or sorrow. He could feel there was much of those two things hidden under the surface. Vader glanced at her with only passing curiosity before he turned to take his leave. 

The muted sadness in her eyes reminded him of what he had seen in Deidra before she threw herself off the ledge. It was the look of a soul, haunted by memories much better left forgotten. He had seen it in Padme’s eyes as she cursed him with her last words. 

_I love you._

And Obi-wan. So many times he had seen it in Obi-wan. Once it had crushed him. Anakin had felt him, but he could never _have_ him. Oh how haunted the man’s eyes had been in that sick moment of realization. Once tasted, forever remembered, loathed, hated. Obi-wan was still haunted. He could see it in the man’s dull, lifeless eyes. And Vader was glad for it. 

…….

Deidra awoke, her body stiff and her head pounding. She lie under starched white sheets, the smell of bacta and disinfectant burning her nostrils. Her eyes blinked open under the harsh fluorescent lighting that shone from ceiling fixtures; the kind that left stark shadows where their light didn’t reach.

Curling her spine she moved to rise up, rubbing at her eyes as she surveyed the room around her. There wasn’t much to be seen. The walls were a cold white color that made her skin look darker in comparison. The sleeper was a solid block of something, not unlike duraplast in texture and density. It was seamlessly fused into the corner of her otherwise unremarkable room. It reminded her of a prison cell, nothing sharp or usable to inflict an injury to herself or others. 

Isolation. That’s where they had put her, in an isolation chamber. Not even windows to look out of, or holo screens as fake windows to give the illusion of a larger space. The walls were seamless, no door to be seen. Wherever it happened to be, it was recessed and perfectly blended, creating the illusion of being completely trapped and helpless. Although for her, that wasn’t far from the truth. 

But she had so nearly been free. Free from all that would transpire, free from the machine she found herself caught up in. But it had been taken from her, just like everything else. 

Vader. He had taken it. Deidra remembered in a haze, the face of the man as he cased up the steps. She heard the patter of his boots on the stone steps as he ran up to catch her, almost as if he had known what she was about to do. And his _eyes_. No holo had ever done them justice. They were two gleaming orbs of fire, twin suns spiked with the crimson stain of blood. Most disturbing of all was how he had reached out for her, without reaching at all. 

She had heard stories about the Jedi, the mystic beings and their force powers. Her parents hadn’t ever been to keen on the subject. They detested the Jedi. _Heartless baby snatchers_ , they had called them. Perhaps they had sensed the treachery of the order all those years ago. She had learned to emulate their prejudice, finding them unnerving at best. 

But the way he had reached out for her, suspending her in midair, reminded her of everything she had ever heard about the Jedi. Most of which came from hushed whispers and gossip during the rebel uprising, a dark period during the Clone Wars. 

Her homeworld of Onderon held steadfast to their Separatist allegiance throughout the conflict. In spite of their partisan declaration, enough citizens had dissented, and the rebellion was born. Republic inspired terrorism tore through their major cities as war ravaged the land. There had been tell of a small group of Jedi on a secret mission, training the rebel groups, shaping them into soldiers, skilled terrorists. 

The credibility of her sources had remained undetermined, but the stories had been outlandish, fantastical. Levitation, invisibility, mind control, all manner of manipulation and superiority over any other living being. The Jedi were a story, a fairy tale. Only they weren’t. They were terrifying. 

And who other than a Jedi had such power? Deidra thought over it, a shiver dancing down her spine. He reached out for her, and she stopped. Everything stopped. 

She didn’t remember much after that. The pills and alcohol had been too strong. They should have been sufficient to end her alone, but she didn’t like the idea of his hands touching her, not even in death. No one would touch her but the duracrete that her body would slam against as she fell to the depths below. Her body wasn’t theirs to keep, or to burry. 

Deidra’s pulse quickened as she felt that eminence again. She had felt it before, just before Vader had come for her. It was the feeling when everything began spiral quickly, too quickly. It was the telling of something to come, as if the very air was trying to whisper a warning. The rising panic urged her to act. Shakily she tore the stiff sheet off of her body and began running her hand on the wall, searching for some recessed button that might trigger a door to open. 

“Hello!” Deidra shouted, giving up her search just as quickly as it had begun. She rapped her fist against the solid wall. It barely made a sound. “ _Hello!_ ” Deidra cried out again, feeling her chest restrict with fear. Still, no response. But something was coming closer, closer still. 

Turning her efforts to another wall, she began knocking and crying out for someone, anyone, to let her out. Then suddenly, the soft whirring of a door opening sounded behind her. A dark presence flooded the room, filling the air, clinging to her skin.

Deidra turned to see a rectangular cut out where the door had given way. _He_ stood there on the precipice. His shoulders broad, menacing. The black of his robes stood harshly against the light color of his skin. Not so pale as she, but fair skinned. His hair fell in golden brown locks down the sides of his face quite handsomely. His eyes, as lethal as they had ever been. Still, nothing like she had ever seen of him on the holonet.

“How are you feeling?” Vader asked in a strange cadence. It lingered on an air of indifference, yet there was a quality to it that seemed softer. His expression was placid, his stare unforgiving. 

“Like a prisoner.” Deidra shot back with a tremor in her voice. Her face showed her fear. Her clenched fists told of her rage. 

The man averted his eyes. “This is your home now. You’re not a prisoner here.” He stated, regaining eye contact that she couldn’t break away from, even though she so desperately wanted to. 

“If i’m not a prisoner, let me go. Let me leave.” Deidra said, gaining momentum. As much as the man inspired a sense of fear, she also felt that he meant her no harm. It was a strange, conflicting dichotomy of divergent emotions.

“I would if I could. It’s not up to me.” The man said, something like a fleeting apology in his fiery stare. 

“So I _am_ a prisoner then.” Deidra said insistently. Her stomach churned. _Not a prisoner. A resource. A womb for his children._ Her pallor grew ashen at the thought as a spark of horror flashed in her eyes. 

Almost as if he could hear her shameful thoughts, the man cast his stare downwards. “We are all subject to the Emperor’s wishes and decrees.” He paused, his brow furrowed. “It is always unwise to contest the Emperor. He has no tolerance for disobedience.” The man clenched his fists and released them. That was the only telling sign of his own anger or frustration, yet Deidra could feel the man’s emotions boiling around her. 

Shame, anger, hate. So much hate. Deidra _might_ have felt sorry for him.

“I’m not-” She started then stopped, halted by the gravity of her words and their implications. “I won’t… I’ll never let you- I mean... I won’t go willingly.” She bit out awkwardly, feeling light headed in her fear. 

His eyes flitted up to meet hers again. “I can’t force you. _I won’t_. How can I disrespect the woman who would carry my own children?” He said, nearly insulted she would insinuate he would be violent with her to begin with. There was a genuine quality to his words, inflected with emotion, not the monotone facade he had shown up to that point. 

Something about it made her heart flutter, made her think that perhaps her own perceptions about him were wrong. A slight pang of guilt tickled in her chest. He had saved her life, come quickly after she had woken up to ask how she was feeling. Maybe it was true, that he was as much under the Emperor’s thumb as she was. _He has no tolerance for disobedience,_ the man had said. How had he come to know? Did it matter at all? 

No, not really.

“You should have let me fall.” Deidra said, her eyes welling with hot tears. “You should have just let me _die_.”

Instead of answering, the man stepped forwards into the isolation chamber, directly towards her. Deidra involuntarily jerked back, slamming her head against the wall behind her. She shrugged it off and stood on guard as he continued forwards, ignoring her clumsiness. Stopping only inches shy of touching her, the man withdrew something from the inner fold of his robes. 

Deidra winced, her body bracing for something that never happened. In the palm of his ungloved hand he held a small ring, gold in color with foreign characters etched into the wide flat band of metal. Atop it was a gleaming black crystal that seemed to pulse with energy as she looked at it. Deidra was entranced by the gem, locked in it’s pull. 

Losing patience, Vader grabbed her hand and slipped the dark jeweled ring on her finger with abrupt movements. The feel of his leather gloved hand on her skin felt odd, empty, opposed to the heat of his ungloved hand that slid the ring in place. Feeling even more confused she looked at the ring, then back at the Dark Lord who stood before her, with a question on her face. 

The man’s expression showed his ever waning patience. “This will let everyone in the tower know who you are. It’s a sign of my protection.” He said, his words short and perhaps a shade resentful. The air in the room turned darker for his slight shift in mood. 

Deidra tried to pay it no mind. “And who am _I_?” She said, eyes daring, voice grating against his nerves. 

Vader’s jaw tensed in aggravation. “The lady of the tower.” The man said flatly, unamused. He seemed wrung dry of any emotion he might have held at the start. 

The title seemed like it might have been an honor to hold, but it felt like a curse, the flat tone of his voice making her feel no more welcome. “The whole tower is yours to explore. Feel free to wander, make yourself at home. I’ll find you later, when you’re more settled in.” He said, turning for the door to make his leave. 

The man paused, turning his head to speak over his shoulder. “Oh, I should mention. Any harm that comes to you will reflect badly on everyone else here. Should you meet with any untimely end, the staff will be dealt with in kind.” His words were icy, sharp stabbing threats that struck her core. 

Deidra’s lips curled downwards in a bitter frown as if she had just tasted something terrible. The man continued to walk away, leaving her alone to leave or do as she pleased. _What an awful man_ , she thought, resisting the urge to tear off the ring and throw it across the room. 

Just a man, she told herself. Deidra didn’t want to say the name, not even inside herself. The syllables that formed the name _Darth Vader_ seemed to invoke a kind of demon, something too terrible to comprehend. Beyond the title, he was still just a man, if she chose to believe it. 

He wanted her to believe he was some poor mistreated underling of the Emperor. In the same breath he would casually threaten the deaths of so many beings, for the sake of exercising control. The echo of guilt she felt earlier was replaced by a righteous anger. He was a mystery of a man, and she cared little to unravel the secrets of him. He was strange, cruel, distant. Even if there was an echo of something else beneath.

How was it the air thickened like tar when he was in the room? How his very presence filled ones senses with dread? If his only saving grace was his word that he wouldn’t force himself on her, it wasn’t much a credit to his personality or character. 

_I’ll find you later, when you’re more settled in._ Now those words sounded like another threat. One she wanted to so badly be wrong about. Deidra supposed, only time would tell the true nature of those words. 

Regardless, she had permission to leave the confines of isolation, and she very much intended on retreating back to her suite as quickly as possible to redress herself to better suit her comfort level. She didn’t consider herself prude, but she never had shown so much skin in her entire life. She didn’t understand how anyone could feel at ease in such sparse coverings. 

As she darted out from the isolation room and ventured into the larger medical area, the staff members huddled at the far corners of the room behind their desks and screens, pretending to read charts while murmuring amongst themselves. She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead and ignore their presence, but it was difficult. She didn’t need to look to see their eyes on her. She could feel them burning into her skin. So many of them, twenty at least, passing hushed whispers between themselves as she walked by. 

Fear. Terror. They were helplessly afraid of her. She could sense it like a static charge in the air, making the tiny hairs on her arm stand on end. Vader’s threat towards her would be unspoken knowledge among the staff, she was sure. They wouldn’t need to be told to know her welfare would mean their survival. Her heart pitied them and burned with anger all at the same time, curdling her regard for the Dark Lord as the moments passed. 

With a quickened pace Deidra strode out of the medical wing and into a grand hall, as empty as it was stark white in color. She looked around, realizing she hadn’t the faintest clue which direction would take her back to her suite. Without even needing to ask or look for someone to help her, a maidservant came rushing to her side.

Deidra couldn’t tell if it was one of the women from earlier who had helped groom and dress her, but her hair was held in the same fashion, her robes identical to those of the women she had met before. “You’re feeling better already, milady? Such a quick recovery.” She remarked in a surprised voice. 

“Um, yes,” Deidra answered back, partially ashamed. She opened her mouth to ask a question but was interrupted before she could utter a single syllable. 

“You must want to retire to your chambers. Let me show you the way.” The woman said, her words sounding more like an order than a suggestion, even in her soft cadence. 

“Yes, please.” Deidra acquiesced, not thinking twice about it. They headed to the western artery of the tower, the large spiraling staircase that ran the entire length of Vader’s domain. Casing the stairs for a few descending floors, they came to her suite rather quickly. 

“Is there anything you need, or shall I leave you to it?” The woman asked politely.

“Actually, there is one thing. Could you bring me one of your spare uniforms? One that will fit me?” Deidra asked. 

The woman paused for a moment, looking uncertain for the span of a heartbeat. “Of course milady. Will that be all?” 

“Yes. You can leave it in the dressing room, I’m going to go to sleep, now.” She said, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. The woman had commented about her quick recovery, but she didn’t know how long she had been asleep. The sky outside her veranda was dark, dotted by the distant streams of traffic that trailed across the globe. Perhaps it was even the same rotation? If that was the case, she had no doubt the medical care was cutting edge. Not at all what they had been privy to on Onderon. 

Putting it out of mind, Deidra slinked over to her dressing room and tore out of her high fashion garments. Looking all over for a set of sleep clothes, she found none that would suit her needs. After giving up the search, she found a silken chamise that fell just past her hips. It was loosely fitted enough to be comfortable, but still entirely too lavish. 

With a sigh she shrugged and headed to her bedroom, the next door over. Entering the room her eyes immediately fell to _him_ , sitting at the corner of the room on her chaise lounger beside the balcony. 

“Are you feeling more settled?” He asked, a vague disinterest in his words. 

“No, not at all.” Deidra said, her feet planted firmly on the floor below her, ready to bolt if the need arose. Still all too aware of every inch of her uncovered skin.

“That’s unfortunate.” He said flatly. 

“Yes, well, i’m going to bed so, I would like for you to leave. Now.” Deidra said, her words more demanding than asking. 

For the first time he exhibited an emotion other than the passive aggressive stoicism that seemed to overwrite all of his words. Not quite a smile, a corner of the man’s mouth turned up in a smirk as he rose from the chaise and stalked right towards her. Something had amused him for sure, she wasn’t sure of what, though she wasn’t amused. 

He stopped about a meter in front of her, his fiery stare looking her up and down, his patience waning yet again. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to let me leave?” He asked rhetorically. 

Deidra’s face turned a brilliant red as she stepped aside, immediately and helplessly embarrassed. She shouldn’t allow herself to feel such things in his presence. It was a weakening trait that would only degrade her iron will in his eyes. But she couldn’t help but feel like a foolish child at such an obvious oversight. As hard as she tried not to be so affected, he kept her on edge. 

All for the wrong reasons. 

She refused to apologize as she stepped aside, standing by the precipice in wait for him to leave, but he just stood there. Then he turned to face her. 

“Once it's done you’ll never have to see me again, if that’s what you want. But if we delay this, the Emperor won’t be happy. He’ll punish both of us.” He said, the smirk bled from his features and replaced with a serious frown. 

“What can he take from me that I haven’t already lost?” Deidra barked, suddenly overcome with emotion. 

He looked down at her with a trace of concern. “You would be surprised how cruel he can be.” He answered back, his eyes searing into hers. 

“I think i’ll take my chances.” Deidra spat back instantly. 

His gaze intensified as the air between them became charged, thrumming with electricity. Her skin felt sensitive, her face flush. She felt warmth flood her body, opening up places inside she rarely felt so alive. A flash of sensuous suggestions and images flooded her mind. She found herself holding onto a breath, her body building up tension in every fiber of her being. 

He reached out, placing delicate fingertips on her jawline, trailing down her neck softly, slowly. Deidra swore she could feel her pupils dilate, feel her sharp inhalation at the contact. What was it that was coming over her-- why didn’t she cringe as he continued, brushing the edge of her collar bone with deft skill? He was just a man. But no, no he wasn’t. He was Darth Vader, a mythic entity of unknown power and prowess. Unmatched in strategy and lethality. 

And he was trailing his feather light touches down, teasing her breast, her stomach, before his hand took hold at her hip. “I’m quite generous, if you let me be.” He said softly, in a voice she hadn’t heard him use before. The way the syllables fell from his lips made her shudder as her focus honed with hypnotic suggestibility. She felt her energy draw to him, felt an animal urge for him, for the body that lie beneath his thin sleep clothes. 

She had never known anyone in such a way before. As badly as her body wanted to learn what it was to feel intimately with another, she didn’t. She didn’t want this, it made no sense. She was a pawn, nothing but an empty womb for him to fill with seed. Any feigned intimacy was all for show. It was out of character for her to be so passionately disposed. Never had she been so on the edge of losing control. She felt herself fight it, every moment desperately clinging to what she knew to be true within herself. 

“Stop that,” she said, her voice wavering with effort. With a surprised look Vader pulled away just as quickly as she spoke. 

“My apologies,” He said, his brows furrowing with an aftershock of confusion as he surveyed her with curiosity. 

Quickly after she felt the intensity of arousal lessen and her body relax as if she had just surmounted some sort of challenge. Though the lingering want that ached inside her belly became a nuisance. 

“I’m sure you need your rest, after everything. Your recovery was unexpectedly quick. Perhaps you’re not fully well, yet.” Vader said returning to his usual flat voice and expression. 

So her suspicions were founded. But that was hardly the reason she didn’t want him to touch her. “Yes, i’m tired. But i’m still going to feel the same about you, tomorrow.” She said irritably. 

“We’ll see. Sleep well, Deidra.” He said, bowing his head slightly. His lips shaping around the letters of her name, trance like and gratifying in ways she didn’t understand. She thought she saw another small smirk on his lips as he turned and closed the door behind her, leaving the room feeling strangely empty. 

With a huff she went to lock her door and promptly crashed face down against the freshly laundered sheets of her sleeper. Images of Vader ran through her mind. The things she had expected him to be, she wasn’t sure what they had been. Certainly nothing like this. He was so sure of himself, so demanding. Manipulative. 

Her stomach turned as she thought of feeling a want for him at all. Though only moments ago she fought against it, nearly to the point of breaking. He had _touched_ her in ways she had never allowed anyone. She didn’t swat his hand away, or spout an unending speil of insults and curses. She fought herself to not give in, it was all she could do. How could she explain it? 

It wasn’t her. It must have been another one of his Jedi tricks. As easily as he could suspend her in midair, he could twist and pervert her wants and desires. The thought made her stomach sick and her spine cringe and shudder. Her parents were right, criminals, the lot of them. She thought they had all been put out of existence at the end of the Clone Wars, but clearly Vader shared in some Jedi talents at the very least. 

It infuriated her, how her belly still ached. He stirred things inside of her that relentlessly went on wanting in his absence. She felt swollen and hot between her slicked lips. Her nipples were full and hard, pressing against the cool silken fabric of her chemise. The sensations were overwhelming, frustrating. How long had it been since she had given herself such intimate attention? She couldn’t remember. But she couldn’t like this, not when he had made her feel this way. 

But like drink that would fill her veins, like pills to dull her senses, her body complained against her stubborn will. Did she have to have an excuse? The chemical chain of reactions that unlocked her inhibitions, that drew her focus to the physical realm of skin and bone and blood created a pleasurable suggestion. A want that caused her to press her hips against the mattress, creating wet friction between her hardened clit and her panties as she shifted her weight. A shockwave of sensation jolted through her body, encouraging her to allow herself the moment, to let go of everything and just feel. 

It didn’t matter who started this, it wasn’t about him, or how he touched her. It was the raw bliss she felt as she reached down, putting two fingers between her lips, finding the hard bead that sent bursts of delicious orgasmic pleasure through her body when she rubbed against it. There was nothing, nothing else other than the rhythm of her hips grinding against her fingers, sliding over that sweet spot. 

Brighter, better, faster, harder, she grinded her hips, moving her body over her fingers. Every muscle tensed as she felt the tingling pleasure spread between her thighs, dancing through her nerve endings sweetly. Soft grunts grew into louder, shameless staccato punctuations noting every thrust of her hips. 

But something deep inside her pulsed and ached still. Spreading herself and pressing two fingers inside she chased after it, quickly finding a new, untapped well of pleasure that made her body feel weak. She began to fuck herself slowly on her fingers, feeling the imminent rise of orgasm grow in her belly. She felt herself clamp down tighter as she rubbed the spot deep inside herself firmly, methodically. 

Climax struck her body violently, taking the air from her lungs and every thought from her mind as her body trembled with release. With a sigh she let her body go limp on the sleeper, the contours of her curves sinking into the plush mattress. For once her mind was empty of all things good and bad as her body hummed with satisfaction. 

Though the feeling was short lived, as she heard a shuffle of feet outside her door. The light from the hall cast the silhouette through the gap under her door as they trod lightly towards the staircase. Deidra’s skin crawled as her stomach sank. Who would creep outside her door to spy on her? She had counted on a measure of privacy. She had been wrong to assume she would be given any at all. Was it Vader? Was he really so desperate? 

Her blood boiled, but she was too afraid to venture out to see who it may have been. And by now, they would have been long gone. 

In the next heartbeat a deafening blast filled the air, followed by a low grade rumbling and blaring sirens that accompanied it. 

Deidra rushed out to her veranda to see a plume of ash and smoke rising from the Imperial Palace. Already the smell of char and sulfur polluted the air. It was a sick aroma she was too familiar with. Her heart slammed in her chest as her body trembled uncontrollably as if she were cold. But the night air was warm, humid and uncomfortable. 

Down below she could see the landing pad lit up under the tower’s flood lights. A figure clad in black, donning a black cloak kicked a lone speeder bike to life, quickly mounting it and rushing towards the blast in the distance. She could feel the essence of him, the Dark Lord rushing to his Emperor’s aid. 

A sturdy knock at her door sent a startled jolt through her frame. “Milady!” A maidservant called out frantically. Deidra shakily sprinted to her bedroom door, turning the lock and throwing it open. “Emergency procedures Milady, follow me.” She said with an edge of fear. 

“Where are we going?” Deidra asked, her whole body tensing as another blast sounded out. She looked back to see a ball of fire rise up in the sky, brilliant in color, making the whole of Coruscant look dull in comparison. 

The woman tugged on her arm. “A safe room near by. Hurry!” She said shouting above the sirens that blared louder still. 

Deidra ran quickly behind the woman, letting herself be pulled towards safety. Her mind raced, plunging her back into the past, into one of the worst moments of her life. 

“Deidra, go fetch another pitcher of water for us, won’t you?” Her mother said, smiling, the sun reflecting kindly in her weathered blue eyes. 

“I’m on it,” Dedira said, rising up from the bench her family congregated at in the center of the food court at the central market.

Her younger siblings chattered and fought amongst themselves, but quickly buttoned it for the moment after a chastisement from their father. He was home for the weekend, two days home, no work. Life had been good ever since he switched to civilian transport from his cargo hauling days. He was happier, and everyone else had been for it, too. Not that he had ever been cruel, but now he was _present_ with them, not just merely existing, as her mother would say. 

Deidra walked over to the water station at the edge of the food court, pulling the tab on the spout and placing the jug under the small trickling stream of cold water. The barrel was running near empty and took longer to dispense than it might have otherwise. She looked out at the crowd in her spare moments, seeing the culture of her home fill the streets. Vendors with their wares out on display, exotic and local foods for sale in carts and stands all around. People were _happy,_ even if under guard. 

The tin soldiers, droids, stood sentry guard at corners, a few walked the isles in their mechanical strides. It had been that way ever since the Clone Wars had began, but it did little to erode the richness and vibrance of the city and its people. Everyone from merchants to children, were smiling, as her eyes trailed over the crowd. 

Everyone except for one man. His wide blue eyes darted about with a look of distress. His brow was furrowed intensely, his auburn hair falling just above his lashes. He swept over the crowd like he was searching for something, someone. Something about him sent a pang of anxiety through her core. Her stomach turned into a pit, feeling something horrible fall over her senses. She had felt this same thing before. _Just a panic attack_ , her mother would say, but he had never been so sure. 

It wasn’t something inside of herself, it was outside. Just like she could feel the emotions of others, feel the air of a crowd, how each person gave a note, a chord. In it, the market would be a symphony of emotion, elation and heartbreak. All of it beautiful, which is why she loved it so much. But sometimes that melody could turn dark, scary even. And this one man, with what might have been one note in a crowd of other harmonious tunes, flooded her mind with his fear, his anxiety. 

But was it his? Or were they both feeling the same catastrophic energy that seemed to overwrite every good and happy note of all the others who continued to go about their business as if all was well? Suddenly, as if he could hear her question, her confusion, he turned to face her, his eyes locking onto hers. 

She felt him draw to her, their energies connecting like twin lightning bolts intertwining, colliding in a storm. He pivoted on his feet, breaking out into a sprint towards her. She didn’t flinch. She felt a calm descend over her, like everything was going to be alright, even if it wasn’t. 

His body met with hers and he spun, holding his arms out defensively only a moment before a flash of bright white, devastating light seared across her vision. In the violence she didn’t hear a sound aside from the ringing in her ears, the deafening effect of a blast that had hit at the very center of the market. Their bodies had been thrown, strewn a few meters from where they had stood. 

Something hurt terribly in her leg and her back. She felt a warm trickle fall down the side of her face. Blood, she felt as she moved one trembling hand up to feel the wet matted hair at the site of her injury. 

The man that she thought she had seen, had vanished. Perhaps dead, lost among the bodies blown apart all over the market. She struggled to gain footing Where her family had been, nothing left but blood and viscera and shattered structures that had been blasted to bits. 

She couldn’t hear anything. Not the scream that ripped from her chapped bloody lips, not the sobbs that racked her shoulders as she looked around in horror at the sea of dead around her. 

“It’s going to be alright, Milady, nothing can get to us in here.” The maidservant said reassuringly as she sealed the metal door tightly, wrenching the mechanism closed. An independant lighting system hummed to life as they retreated further into the space. Inside were two crash couches, a small table welded to the floor, and a hard wired com unit. The woman opened a cabinet, pulling the magnetic snap free, withdrawing a blanket and bottle of water. 

“Here, rest and it will all be over before you know it. You can close your eyes, i’ll stay up and wait for the all clear.” The woman said, looking at Deidra’s teary face with concern. 

With a shaky hand Deidara accepted the blanket, wrapping it around herself and collapsing down onto the couch. She closed her eyes against the steady flow of tears and breathed. 

And waited.


End file.
